#✧ ˖‧ ┊ ❮ visage ❯ blood on my shirt and heart in my hand — still beating / ASTARION

[sagnaevi]

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[oepionie]

— "AND WHILE YOU SLEEP, I'LL BE SCARED." overblot gang 

SYNOPSIS: Your lover waking up from a horrific nightmare and scrambling to listen to your heartbeat so he can make sure you're still alive.

⊹ [ cw ] — angst, hurt/comfort, overblot, blood, glass shards injury, anxiety/panic attacks, insecurities, mentions of death, crying (them)◞

⊹ [ tags ] — ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP. GN! READER | riddle tears his room apart, leona feels immense guilt, caring leona, azul having a panic attack, vil being an absolute mess, vil speaks german, shy idia, jamil injures himself accidentally, jamil calls you 'albi' (my heart), malleus immortality angst ◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 1.5k+◞

✩—RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS:

It's far past his scheduled time for sleep.

A bitter taste is bubbling up in his throat and frothing against his tongue. Riddle doesn't know what this wretched feeling is. All he knows is that he's terrified. Perhaps that's why he allows himself to disturb your sleep, the maddening emotions slamming against his head becoming too much for him to handle.

"I-I apologize for waking you," Riddle rasps, slipping into your shared bed and burrowing his face deep into the crook of your neck. His breaths come out in quick and fleeting puffs, heart thrumming hard against his ribs.

In the dimness of the night, the myriad of mangled and torn-up books that were strewn and flung about the room in a frenzied fury could hardly be seen. Your gaze flickered down to your lover. The tips of Riddle's fingers were a blistering raw red, his once well-groomed nails now visibly chipped at its ends.

With a touch of your tender hands, you pull him down to rest against your chest.

"What's wrong?"

"I–I just…I recalled the incident of my overblot and how I hit you with that blast. H-How you nearly—" Clamping his eyes tight, Riddle dared not to finish that sentence. The boy trembles in your arms—ears fervently straining to hear the steady and melodic thump of your heart, a melody he feared he would never hear again.

A choked sob tumbles from his lips and your chest aches.

"…I'm sorry," was his quiet cry. "I'm so sorry."

✩—LEONA KINGSCHOLAR:

Peacefully fast asleep, your back was nestled snug against the Leona's chest while his firm bicep protectively curled around your ribs.

Over the course of your relationship, Leona began to realize how much he loved having you in his arms. You were at peace when you slept, untouched and untainted by the stress and pain you dealt with every day.

He crept his free hand up your torso, cold fingers slipping underneath your shirt, skimming up your stomach, and settling above the spot on your chest where your heartbeat danced vividly against his touch. Leona splays his fingers out more, fixated on how the thrum of your life felt against his skin.

It was a daily struggle to keep his emotions at bay, ensuring that his strong feelings and magic wouldn't hurt you again. The nightmarish phantom of his blot still haunts him to this day. That wrath was an ugly and hideous beast he wished to keep locked away in the depths of his mind for all of eternity.

Yet, at the soft beat of your delicate heart against his sullied hands—Already, Leona finds himself wavering, uncharacteristically weak.

An overpowering mix of stress and strain washes over him, pooling up into watery blobs and flowing down his cheeks in faint streaks as he silently wept.

"Fuck," Leona curses, pulling your dozing form closer to him. "Fuck. Fuck, I'm sorry. You don't deserve this."

✩—AZUL ASHENGROTTO:

The torment of nightmares was far worse than he remembered, but this dread he felt was unquestionably different, pressing in on him like a frigid cold. The icy sensation seeps into the marrows and dips of his flesh—his sole respite being your touch, which both warmed and scorched at his skin.

"Angelfish." Azul breathlessly sputtered, blindly patting around the bed in search of your body.

Through the fringes of his blacked out vision, he could barely make out your worried drowsy visage. This caused him to panic, pulse picking up, but you were quick to soothe him—reaching a hand out to press against his cheek. Finally finding you, the octo-mer pulled you towards his side of the bed, engulfing you in a tight hug.

Azul tried to stop the flood of tears that layered his face, but your soft lips strewn with kisses on his skin seemed to further elicit his unceasing cries. 

"I'm not going anywhere, Azul. I'm here." You whisper, cradling his face, but he was inconsolable. The octo-mer desperately clawed at your shirt as he pressed his ear deeper against your chest, practically melting into you.

The throbs of your heart echoed through his anguished mind, providing him with some semblance of comfort.

"Don't go….Please…" Azul sputters, body shaking from every deep, labored heave of his burning lungs, "Please."

✩—JAMIL VIPER:

A strangled scream awoke you from your abyssal sleep, your bleary eyes ripping open to dart here and there around the room in a manic frenzy. The ensuing shattering smash of a glass further threw your thoughts into disarray.

"Jamil?!"

Your lover had stumbled off of the bed, now kneeling against the wooden flooring with the bedsheets pooling around his hips, sheets damp from the shattered glass of water on the floor.

A bloody hand clenched at his palpitating heart, glass shards digging into his skin, as his lungs fought to maintain his breathing.

You sprang from the mattress and skidded in his direction, but Jamil scrambled away from you.

"Albi, no. There's glass. Stay away. You're going to get hurt," Jamil stammered. Holding a shaky hand up, the boy avoided your gaze.

"Jamil—" Brows pinched together, you eased towards him. "I'm not going to get hurt, don't worry."

You stepped over the shards of crystal glass with caution and made your way past, "See?"

Once you were within his reach, Jamil caved in and slowly brought you into his arms—careful with his injury. He could feel the distant sting of the cuts on his hands, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Leaning down, he lay his head over your heart. Even though the batter of your heart was frantic and panicked, it somewhat provided a steady beat for him to follow as he worked to untangle the complexities in his thoughts. Your lover sunk against you, anchoring himself against the warmth your body radiated.

✩—IDIA SHROUD:

As the minutes pass, Idia was rapidly losing every meagre amount of confidence he managed to scrape together.

"Idia…honey? Please get up." You croon, running a hand through his flaming hair.

Though it seemed as if he didn't hear anything—Idia kept his head glued against your beating chest, refusing to get up from his position on the floor.

He's been kneeling before you for so long that the rough fabric of his pants burned and skidded against the tender skin of his knees, sending excruciating stings along the threads of his flesh.

"I—No…N-No…I can't." Idia's lips quiver, eyes glossing over as he diverts his gaze. The weight of his arms lay heavy against your legs, elbows resting by your knees while his dull nails dug into the skin at the back of your thighs.

"Why's that?" You whisper.

Idia shut his eyes. The flash of numerous dreams and nightmares he's suffered at the hands of his own demented twisted memories clouded his mind. It did not help that they were all molded out of his own self-inflicted pessimism...cruel and unforgiving. A reason as to why he couldn't bear to look at you tonight, not when the image of your mangled body was still fresh on his mind.

"I-I'm s-sor-sorry…I ca-can't get up…I need to…” he stumbles for words, his breathing picking up its pace. "I need to…need to know you're okay."

✩—VIL SCHOENHEIT:

"Vil…" You worriedly murmur, pressing your lips against his mascara-stained cheeks, not minding the bitter aftertaste it left lingering in your mouth.

Laying atop the plush silk sheets of his king-sized bed, the dorm leader's eyes were ripped wide open as his chest heaved viciously. It was quite a rare sight as your lover lay vulnerable before you, heart bared open.

Oh, he was an absolute mess.

Dark streams of teary mascara ran down Vil's cheeks, his uniform wrinkled and his golden hair splayed out everywhere—unbound from its braids and tangled up.

The grip of his arms around your midsection tightens as he pressed you up closer against him, his head resting atop your chest. At the sound of your heartbeat, Vil allowed himself to unwind and let your affections banish away even the most ominous of his thoughts.

"Liebling…Es tut mir ehrlich Leid—" Vil rasps, his mother tongue dripping like honey from his lips as he suddenly found it difficult to speak the language he was so accustomed to every day.

Hushing him, you press a fleeting kiss against his brow line and Vil clamps his red-rimmed eyes shut, ceasing to say anything more.

"Hush now. Rest, my prince." You press a gentle kiss to his temple and brush the frizzes of his blonde hair away from his face.

A small smile quirks on his lips as he feels his stomach fluttering from the nickname. The look in his eyes is softly lit, warm like a candle.

✩—MALLEUS DRACONIA:

One day, Malleus knows, you will be nothing more than wilted and withered ash.

It was a truth that wrapped around him like shackling chains—tearing, whipping and lashing against his raw, bare skin. No matter how hard he pulled, scratched, and screamed at it, the chains remained.

The clanging and grating iron truth about reality cannot be so easily pushed away. Human lives are fickle, and you would inevitably leave him.

Once you do, the fae prince knows he will be a mere shadow of his former self, a wretched and lonesome creature awaiting and longing for his lover who was no more than a ghost of his fleeting memories.

"I apologize for the disturbance, my treasure."

And yet, Malleus presses his hand firmly against your beating heart. A distant marching beat serving as his reminder that you were very much alive and well.

"I truly apologize." Malleus heaves, hands clamouring against your collarbone.

Although thick tension and silence still hung heavy in the air, the dragon basked in the warmth and feel of your flushed skin, a bitter smile gracing his lips as he lay beside you on the bed.

"Sweet dreams, beastie…"

—TAGLIST:

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[thegnomelord]

Demon hunter reader squeezing demon ghost while asleep that it somewhat painful grip having ghost shocked about how fuck did hw manage to go through wtver barrier stopping them from hurting eachother and demon hunter who was clinging out of finding peace and protection with simon in some sort that his pride too strong to admit that he feels afficnated to demon like that

Okay this got my brain worms worming

-----------

It's said what makes a hunter isn't silver or blessed water, but nightmares and blood. You're not a stranger to either, no hunter that's in the industry for something more than stupid pride is intimately familiar with sleepless nights. You know all the ways your mind comes up with to haunt you, and this time you're accosted with the usual frights; cracked claws reaching out to snatch you up, glowing eyes hunting you through twisting corridors of your family home, crooked teeth tearing into your flesh and vomiting your blood back into your mouth until you choke.

Though you are a grown man now, you still whimper like a babe when the nightmares come crawling back. Your body turns on it's own, reaching out and grasping the first thing your fingers touch like a child after a teddy bear. Your grip is iron tight as you pull the warm body closer to you, wrapping all four limbs around Ghost and he's certain he can hear his makeshift bones creak.

Ghost lays motionless, arms by his side, looking straight at the ceiling. Ghost doesn't remember when he last laid in a bed- scratch that. He doesn't even remember when he had laid down at all. Certainly not since he became a demon. And the only reason why he's laying there with his thumb up his ass instead of doing something worthwhile, like finding a way to dissolve this 'marriage', is because you two aren't able to be far away from each other and Ghost would rather get thrown out of Heaven again than lay on the ground like a dog.

At yet another shift of your body he turns his head enough to look at you. He watches your face twist, eyes screwing shut, lips pulling back into a snarl. But the 'fearsome' visage quickly falls and you burrow your face into his neck with a soft whimper, shivering like a puppy. Your arms tighten, blunt nails digging into his arm.

It hurts.

If he had eyebrows on the skull making up his 'face' they would have reached the center of his skull. He can't even begin to think how you're able to hurt him right now. The mere fact that God's pet project, so ugly in your fragility, could hurt him has disgust curling in his stomach.

Ghost has a stray thought to throw you off and acts on it — he's a demon after all, his existence is focused on the suffering of humans. He raises the hand you're not clutching like a lifeline, sharp claws quickly reaching to grab the back of your shirt, trying to summon up the strength to throw you off despite the damned binding.

He's not sure if it's the binding that stops him or the soft sob you let out fucking hope not. His fist relaxes, large paw like hand sliding down your back to slip under your shirt. His hand is warm like dying coals against your sweaty skin, trailing up the curve of your spine and back again in slow even strokes.

It's as if you can feel how shit he is at this, at, -blech- comforting you, your body shifting and starting to squirm away from him. "Enough good hunter." Ghost grunts, voice like grinding glass on sandpaper as he turns on his side, pulling you close with his chest. "You're alright."

The combination of his voice and the heat coming off his body soothes your mind. He feels you melt into his body, all your muscles relaxing, the frantic beating of your heart slowing as you start to take in slow measured breaths. He desperately wants to think of you as a maggot when you burrow your face into his neck, as some disgusting thing when you wrap all your limbs around him. Cute.

He finds he can't. He can't think at all; the sensation of your body against his leaves his mind empty, Tv static buzzing in his core. His chest rumbles with a low and deep growl definitely not a purr, He doesn't purr. You make a noise in return, your grip relaxing but in no way letting him go, mumbling unintelligent words under your breath.

Imagine that, a demon comforting a hunter. Ghost really did lose his mind on the way down.

His hand wraps around your waist and he can feel your sleepy smile against neck.... Holding you a little longer shouldn't hurt.

[lucygraysboy]

billy’s heart is racing a thousand miles an hour, pounding so loud that he can barely hear his own thoughts. pale blue eyes taking in the mess that the oil lamp’s made, the stains on the carpet and his brand new socks, but it’s only when they flicker to lucy gray’s face that his features begin to soften. there’s still a combination of annoyance and anger lancing through, but now his handsome visage is crumpled in concern. no, actually, concern would be an understatement — it’s pure panic. “my goodness, lucy gray, are you alright? was it still warm? did it burn you? careful, there’s glass everywhere, careful. hey, wait, let me see,” he mumbles, holding his breath as he uses the sleeve of his white shirt to wipe away the greasy splatters on her cheek. it smears rather than disappears and so he has to repeat the motion several times, careful not to rub her skin too harshly. a wave of relief washes over him when he notices no charred spots, but then she begins to try and climb out of her hiding spot, and his heart misses a few beats once more. 

“i’ll find it, i’ll find the broom. stay there.” unfortunately, by the time he gets the words out, it’s already too late. she’s wincing and he’s rubbing his temples, a mix of guilt, irritation and sympathy brewing in his chest. “hey, hey, hey… lucy gray, slow down.” he figures their argument about which of them’s lost their mind can wait and ignores her words. “you���re hurt. lucy gray,” he repeats, trying to get her attention as she races in and out of the room, bringing a bunch of cleaning supplies. while she’s focused on the possible consequences of his actions, all he can think of is the blood running down her hand and how there’s probably glass still stuck in her skin, how badly it must sting. “sit down,” he pleads, stepping over the puddle of glass and oil, slipping out of his soaked socks not to leave more stains. he captures her hands between his larger ones, silently asking her to put down the wet washcloth and baking soda. “i’ll take care of it. please, sit down and let me look at your palm first. i’ll clean up. i’ll clean it up, you just sit down, please. come on.” he slides his hands up her slim arms to her shoulders, guiding her to her bed, firmly urging her to sit down on the edge. “here, give me that and don’t move your hand, don’t touch those dirty towels.” he unceremoniously takes the baking soda from her hands and crouches down once more, pouring a generous amount of white powder over the stains. it needs time to react, right? “come on, let’s go to the bathroom. you don’t want that to get infected.” 

a smile is about to illuminate mischievous features before there’s a yell then a CRASH, causing lucy gray to immediately let go and turn her face from glass hitting her skin as she simultaneously gasps. the oil barely misses her shirt, still getting splattered across the cheek. luckily, it doesn’t go in her eyes nor is it hot. “i can’t stay here, you don’t know where the broom is.” she’s immediately climbing out without thinking, hand going in a pile of glass— quickly retracting at the immediate crunchy stings they prick at beneath her palm and flinging her hand. ow. she audibly winces, but continues to crawl out, just going the other way and being careful not to put weight on her hand to push any of the glass pieces deeper into her skin. she’d be more shocked hearing the curse word if she wasn’t frantically looking around with oil on her face and a tiny string of blood pouring down her palm that she’s holding out to keep him from stepping forward in the mess covering her floor with she briefly glances down at, “no, but i think you lost yours. i was just gone for a minute or two, playin’ a game of hide and seek with you and then you’ve went and gotten some crazy ideas the preacher’s here.” how nuts is he? why is he ALWAYS on edge and paranoid, seems like? “but now the preacher will lose his mind, with OIL on the rug!” he’s even crazier if he thinks he won’t notice it. no amount of cleanin’ will even bring it out, probably. she’s quickly turning around, rushing to get a broom and a metal pan out of the hallway’s storage closet, dropping both next to her bed once it’s brought back with her good hand then frantically running into the bathroom. taking one of the already wet wash cloths, running back in again with it and baking soda.

[jungkookiebus]

Hellblazer Final | jjk

Genre: demon!au, smut, some angst, fluff (???) Rating: 18+ Pairing: demon!jungkook x FemConstantine!reader ft. Beezlebub!Hobi (briefly) Word Count: 5.9k Warnings: dom!jungkook, mentions of suicide (brought up previously), oral (f receiving), lots of bodily fluids, light breath play, unprotected sex, ass play, there is a blood ritual of sorts (use of a knife to cut hand for said ritual), more of Jungkook’s body parts warm up (yes, his cock does it again).

“You're quite alone. I'm... well, I'm just like everything else around here. Just like you, really. Just another dream becoming a nightmare.” -John Constantine, Prime Earth

You awoke again, not even realizing that you had fallen asleep. This time he was gone. The space beside you was cold and vacant. You sat up, groaning, because you felt like you had the shit beat out of you. But for some reason, you had never felt better. Swinging your legs over the side of the bed you softly slipped down off it. You kept a steadying hand on the bed because being in bed for months did you no favors but you had a nagging feeling that the short amount of time you seemed to be here, he was healing you a lot faster.

The room was warmed by the fire and you noticed the spear was gone. Looking around, this room wasn’t unlike others, minus the grey cast, and there was no clear indication you were even in Hell. Except for the feeling. Hell had a way of feeling different.

Trying the door handle, it gave way easily, swinging open with no sound at all. The hallway beyond was just as dark and lit with candles that were melting around the twisted metal. The soft, grey glow barely illuminated to the middle of the hallway. The floor was lined with expensive rugs that protected the black, shiny wood beneath. Hideous portraits and scenes lined the walls. Many seemed to be sneering at you from the darkness. There were no sounds, which made it all the eerier. There was no draft, no distant conversation, or the occasional scream. One end of the hall curved towards the right, so you decided to take that direction since the other way was lined with doors that seemed to stretch on for forever. There were many illusions in Hell because you had encountered them. You didn’t think the House of Satan would be any different. Moving slowly, you kept to the carpet and tried not to look at the pictures on the walls. As you made the curve in the hallway you saw it open wide on the left into what appeared to be a very large room. From where you were you saw bookshelves lining the walls and you heard what sounded like a very large fire burning. You approached even slower as you looked around the corner. The room seemed to be a large sitting room and library with a very large fireplace. The sculptures on it were ornate; large golden serpents twisted amongst the branches of an apple tree and above that in stone was a visage of purgatory. Someone was sitting on a long leather couch, back to you, and engrossed in a book. He appeared to be in a suit, hair meticulously done, and slicked back with an undercut. When his hand came up to turn the page you recognized a very familiar tattoo you had seen on numerous occasions. You stepped into the room with a little more confidence now.

“Hello, Bee.” You tried to sound confident, but your voice came out in a croak.

He turned around smoothly as if he expected you to be there and narrowed his eyes at you.

“He let you out?” he chuckled.

“I woke up alone, so I walked out.”

He clicked his tongue and whistled before turning back to his book.

“He won’t be too happy about that,” he said as he crossed his leg over the other and picked the book back up closer to his face.

“Bee, what’s going on?”

He sighed as he sat the book back down on the couch.

“Why do I engage you ever, Hellblazer?”

“Because you’re my favorite Prince,” you said jokingly.

He had up until you met him, been your favorite. He was the only one you could hold a civil conversation with when it came to your dealings in Hell. He didn’t seem to hold as much disdain for you as everyone else did.

“Sit down.”

“And where is everyone?”

“You say that as if you live here and this place is usually bustling with life. I can assure you that this place is just as hopeless as it looks. Abandon all hope and whatever else.” He said it flippantly and with a wave of a hand as if he were bored of the subject. “Hellblazer, there is a war happening. He’s taken the General for his own and is using his military power to control his armies.”

“Heaven won’t stand a chance against him.”

“That’s the point.”

“So, why am I here?”

He screwed his face up as he looked at you like you had grown an extra head.

“How should I know? I thought maybe he was just playing with his food.”

You hadn’t thought of that. But why keep you alive and heal you? There must be some reason he was doing all of this.

“Not all of Heaven can be taken out of a celestial being.”

“Excuse me?”

“If he does what I think he’s gonna do, then you’ll see.” He winked at you as he picked up his book once more. “You’ll probably want to get back to his room before he gets back.”

You tried to bore holes into the side of his head with your eyes, but you knew he wasn’t going to relent and give you any more information. Huffing, you stood from the couch, and left him to his reading. When you rounded the curve this time, the hallway didn’t stretch into infinity, but made a ninety degree turn to the left a few doors down from his room. Yet another illusion to throw off any would be intruders. You slipped back into the room to find it just as you had left it.

With nothing to do but wait, you fell back on the bed and resigned yourself to staring at the velvet drapes of the four poster bed. Just when you felt yourself slipping into sleep, the air pressure in the room changed as the door was opened. You sat up suddenly to see who was in the room with you when you saw him. He was adorned in golden armor, it looked so thin yet impenetrable, as it laid over itself almost like a dragon scale pattern. The breastplate was adorned in filigree and gems that caught the light of the fireplace and made him shine in the dull light. The golden spear was grasped firmly in his right hand and planted on the floor.

“I see you feel better,” he finally spoke. “Are you hungry?”

Your stomach growled at the suggestion of food. He laughed as he pointed behind you and beyond into the room. You turned to see a table laden with food that hadn’t been there before.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, turning back around.

“I told you you’d be better off in Hell,” he said as he moved to place the spear in its place by the fireplace. “You should eat.”

You got up from the bed and walked over to the table. There were several types of roasted meat, vegetables, pastries, breads, and some other things you didn’t recognize. Grabbing a piece of bread, you popped it into your mouth and turned back around to see him now in his standard black suit, sitting in a chair by the fire and a leg thrown over the arm of the chair. He looked casual, but you could also tell he was on edge. You gestured towards him and then to the spear.

“’War’ things?” you asked as you threw up one hand in air quotes.

He studied your face before speaking. “This is a lot more serious than you think, _____.”

“So, what happens then?” You grabbed a few more things off the table before walking over and taking the chair across from him.

You had woken up in a simple, long black shirt and you didn’t feel the need to change it in your wanderings. Not that you had any more clothes packed away for Hell. His eyes shifted to your thighs as you sat, the shirt moving ever so slightly up your legs. He licked his lips and you grabbed the hem, pulling it down and placed your food on your lap.

He looked at you now if you had just asked a ridiculous question.

“Heaven falls.”

You shuddered. There had always been a balance between good and evil and even though evil peeked through a little bit more, it was never enough to be of concern. You had never lived in such an imbalance and honestly it scared you.

“How can you be sure?”

“He lost his best asset.”

“You’re very sure of yourself.”

“Don’t I have to be?” He produced a glass of wine from somewhere and started to sip the red liquid slowly.

“Are you scared?”

The question caught him off guard as his eyes flashed to yours. The dull light of the fire burned in his eyes and at first you thought he was going to be angry with you. He took a few more sips, face turned back to the fire, but he hadn’t answered you yet, so you decided to wait. You took small bites of the food in your lap, but you were slowly losing interest.

“You humans are so sentimental when it comes to relationships,” he started.

Maybe angels didn’t have feelings quite like you did, but you guessed that he felt something.

“In the infancy of Heaven, none of us felt anything. We were meant to protect the human race and that was it. No feelings, no opinions. Just blind trust that He would tell us the right thing.” He swirled the wine in the glass absently, leg still casually thrown over the arm of the chair. “But we soon discovered that He didn’t have our best interest in heart and Lucifer was just the first to say something. I felt like a coward as I stood by, Lucifer defying Him in such a way. I agreed with him, but I was too afraid to say anything and then…” He trailed off looking solemn as his hand stilled, head hung low, and bottom lip jutted out in almost a pout.

You held on to the plate tightly, engrossed in a story that was known to millions, but you were here hearing it firsthand.

“He made me banish him,” he said softly. His voice was mournful, laced in regret. “I remember the look in his eyes when He told me to send him out of the gates.” He lifted the glass and emptied it. “I betrayed Lucifer because I was too afraid to say anything. He put up a fight too. It was a thunderous event. Days afterwards, the skies were black, and Heaven remained dark. He assured me I had done the right thing, but I knew I hadn’t. It just took me this long to defy him myself. The fact that Lucifer was willing to take me was just fortunate.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, thinking. “What would you have done if he didn’t?”

He shrugged without looking at you.

“Why did you mark me?”

At that, he looked at you again. He swung his leg off the arm and sat forward, elbows on his knees as he still held the glass in his hands. He stared at you pensively, searching your face again.

“I’m protecting you.”

“From what? Why?” In your moments awake at the Vatican, the Pope had instructed you of your new mark on your skin.

“I’m protecting you from the aftermath this war might, and will likely, have. When Heaven falls, Earth will be swarmed with demons and they’re not going to be merciful. People will be taken as slaves, killed, and made to live in a waking nightmare. Hell will extend to Earth because Lucifer wants to expand his kingdom. It’s nothing personal against humans.”

“Then why?”

He pursed his lips together, eyes flitting to the fire, and they shined brightly. He switched the glass from hand to hand.

“That one is a little harder to explain.”

“Then try. I’m just a human after all.” You said it with some disdain. He acted so casually as if basically wiping out humans was just something he did every once in a while.

“I get your apprehension about me.”

“Yea,” you said, getting emboldened and a little angrier, “you’ve brought me here twice and just dumped me at home with no explanation, completely confused, and then dying in the middle of the fucking Vatican. I’d like some type of answer as to why I’m marked by two denizens of Hell now without so much as ask-“

You were cut off by the shattering of the wine glass as it hit the floor. He came forward, dropped to his knees in front of your chair, swiped the plate off your lap, grabbed your face, and pulled your lips to his.

He didn’t answer because the answer scared him.

Your body relaxed further as he kissed you, pain washing out of your muscles, and relaxation settling in its place. It was almost as if being with him was like morphine, dulling any anxieties you had, and it confused you so badly that you were pushing him away. His lips were flushed red and his eyes looked large and almost innocent.

“I don’t understand…,” you trailed off as his hands came to rest on the tops of your thighs.

“Fuck,” he said sitting back on his heels and running his hand through his hair.

Your breath caught as he did so, profile turned to you and face illuminated by the grey fire. His features were in sharp shadow and he was even more devastatingly beautiful.  A whisper of fine, shiny dust emanated from around him. It was iridescent and only eye catching if you looked hard enough, but now that you could see it you couldn’t take your eyes off it. It was heavier behind him where his wings once were, floating outwards and dissipating into the room.

“Not all of Heaven can be taken out of a celestial being.”

Heaven still fell from his shoulders in the form of the beautiful remains of who he once was.

His voice was quiet when he spoke again. “At first, it was mild curiosity. The Hellblazer,��� he laughed. “A human who sold her soul to the Devil, banishing demons, and had even killed herself once.”

You hated when anyone brought it up. It was a blot to who you were as a person, but it always seemed to be the subject of conversation when you were around a demon. Why were you so special that Lucifer himself spared you? At times, even you couldn’t explain it.

“I wanted to experience you for myself. You were like a beacon in the night. You lit up the darkness and your whole entire being seemed to call to me.”

He seemed to struggle internally on what to say and what not to say. He still didn’t seem to want to look at you, but he sighed and dropped his hands to his knees, head hanging in defeat before he looked up at you.

“I’m not sure how to explain it, ­­­____. I want you. I want every part of you. I want to protect you. I want you to be mine. I want you stay here, but I can’t make you.” He looked up at you pleadingly, stooping to a level he never thought he’d be at. “I can remove the mark.”

Your hand immediately flew to your heart and he followed the action, face falling as yours brightened. But now, your mind was turning, flowing through thoughts and images of your life. You essentially had nothing. You were only trying to redeem yourself through failed exorcisms, wading through life having wished your suicide worked all those years ago. Here, around him, you felt a little less empty. Could you be happy in Hell? Sometimes where you were already felt like Hell, so what could it hurt to go a little deeper?

Your eyes found his and they shone brightly in the muted tones of the room. The soft halo of color around him accentuated his form and he seemed to glow a little brighter. You fell a little deeper the more you looked at him and soon you were slowly leaning towards him. Instinctively, he rose up on his knees just a little, not wanting to assume what you were doing. Your hair fell into your eyes as you leaned a little closer. His hand shot out to catch it and tuck it behind your ear, stunning you into stopping. His hand froze against your cheek as he stared into your wide eyes. Your heart thrummed painfully in your chest. You tried to breath calmly through your nose, but your tense body was giving you away. He stayed still, gauging your reaction, that much you could tell. Everything in your body was pointing you in the right direction, towards him. It was as if your skin was magnetized and it only knew him. You leaned your face into his palm, feeling the heat of his skin against yours and it almost seemed to burn coldly. He closed the space between you, lips connecting with yours gently. He sighed as you reciprocated, bringing his other hand up to your neck as he deepened the kiss. As much as you felt reborn and empowered around him, something was missing. Your whole body seemed to ache with a loss you couldn’t quite place and with a pleasure that only he could stir inside of you. He let go of your face in favor of shoving his hands under your thighs, lifting you as he stood. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he put your legs around his waist, hands sliding to your ass. All the while he was kissing the curve of your jaw and drawing your earlobe between his teeth. You moaned and leaned into him, nestling your face into his neck and kissing the skin there. He breathed heavily against you as he walked and sat you on the edge of the bed, leaning over you so your fell to your back as he continued to kiss you. His hands were all over you body as if he didn’t know what he wanted to touch first. His fingers grazed over your nipples beneath the shirt and he felt them harden under his touch. You moaned, arching your chest upwards towards his but he moved with you and kept his distance. You broke the kiss and grasped at his biceps.

“Please touch me,” you said breathily.

He moaned as he grasped your waist, sliding his hands upwards, pushing your shirt up passed your breasts. You held your arms up as he moved the shirt upwards, pausing to wrap his lips around your nipple and suck it into his mouth before pulling it off the rest of the way.

“Please stay with me,” he whispered back gently into your ear.

His hand was hot on your hip, just above the waistband of your underwear. The other skated up your side causing chills to spread across your skin.

“I will.”

His lips found yours as he ground himself against you.

“Take these off,” he said, snapping the band of your underwear. He stood up and began discarding his clothing to each side of him. He suit jacket hit the floor, followed by his white button down that was thrown somewhere to his left, and this time you let your eyes wander over his tattoos without fear. Many were old, from the time of his creation, to more recent ones after his fall into Hell. He wrapped his inked hands around your calves and pulled you to the edge of the bed, dropping until he was eye level with your dripping cunt.

“I’ll make you feel good,” he said before licking a stripe up your center, causing you to moan. He kept your thighs apart, arms wrapped around them, and his hands grasped firmly against your thighs. “Fuck, I’ll make you mine.” He flicked his tongue over your clit, and you shuddered, hips stuttering against the bed. “You’ll be even more beautiful, even more so than Lilith.” His mouth covered your clit as his eyes met yours in a heated stare. His eyes blackened until the whites were almost gone. Your body heated so hot from the inside out you thought you were about to combust. He leaned back a little, mouth wet and almost dripping. “All of Hell will know who you belong to.”

He dove back between your legs as if some life saving potion were there. You cried out as his tongue teased circles on your clit before dipping down to explore more of you. He was being selfish. He wanted all of you and he wouldn’t feel complete without it. He lapped at you sloppily, pulling you harder and harder into his face. You ground your hips against him, and he moaned. His fingers were digging into your skin until you were sure you’d see bruises tomorrow. Your fingers were in his hair as you began to fuck yourself against his face, feet digging into his shoulder blades. His lips heated up against you and they brushed wetly across every part of you. Even now, you could feel his pout. His left hand now firmly held your ribcage and then he was inched forward and grabbed your breast fully in his hand. His palm heated instantly, causing an entirely different sensation than what you expected. You rutted against his face even harder and soon his teeth were brushing over your sensitive clit, before moving downward to dip his tongue inside of you, his nose stimulating you now. His moans were low, deep, and came from the back of his throat and they seemed to pulse up through your body. His lips warmed even more as he lapped lewdly now. Your hips circled on his face and you dripped down onto the bed no matter how much of you he tried to swallow. Your orgasm struck forcefully, his tongue inside of you to catch every drop. With your body twitching on the bed, he leaned forward, placing kisses against your stomach and kissed the curve of your neck gently.

“I can make you feel whole again,” he said against your skin.

Your entire body was flushed with sweat, totally spent, and muscles now melting into the mattress. But his comment sparked something inside of you. Could he feel it too?

“How?” you asked. Your fingers skated across the scars on his back and then up to his neck where you held on tightly, looking him in the eyes.

“I can give it back to you.”

You didn’t think you’d ever see stars again, agreeing to come to Hell, but his eyes held thousands. They were no longer completely black, but a soft chocolate, reflecting a strange milky way.

“Give me…what?” you whispered, falling into the void that was his gaze.

“Your soul.”

The ache in your chest blossomed and overcame the pleasure you had felt. Now the ache you felt had a name, had a face, and you were looking straight at it. That explained how you felt around him. He heightened everything inside of you that you wanted to have, but he also emphasized the large hole inside of you too; the thing you didn’t really try to think about and what it cost you.

“But…if I get it back won’t I just di­-,” he cut you off with a kiss to the side of your mouth.

“I won’t let you die. I’ll bind your soul to mine.”

Nothing about what he said should have lit the type of fire inside of you like it did. You were hungry for more. For more of him. You turned your face to meet his lips fully, pulling him against you. He was rutting his hips against you, his cock nudging your entrance. You pushed your hips upwards and he moaned as he entered you the slightest bit.

“Make me yours,” you said hotly.

His eyelids fluttered as his eyes rolled back. He pushed against you a little more forcefully, fully pushing inside of you. He sat up, hand at your throat as he began to thrust a little harder. He didn’t press as hard as he had before, but just enough pressure to make it pleasurable. He watched the pleasure flit across your face as you grabbed his wrist. He brought his other hand to your neck, pressing his thumbs up into your jaw. You were practically drooling as he fucked you, building up that pleasure inside of you as his cock warmed.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he moaned as he pressed into your skin a little harder. You were wet around him, dripping even more onto the sheets below you. He released his grip on your neck, but you kept your eyes closed as he continued to fuck you. Producing a knife, he made a quick cut in his left palm, dropped the knife and dipped his pointer finger into the blood. He pressed it against your skin and your eyes flew open at the hot, wet feeling. Your eyes found his and you could tell he was concentrating, but it didn’t make you afraid. You found yourself falling into the feeling of him once more as he continued to draw across your skin, skillfully sliding into you all the while. It only took a few minutes before he was leaning over you, his hips slowing to a more languid pace, brushing against your clit softly as he pressed against you, careful not to smear the blood.

“Are you ready?” he asked as he kissed your temple.

You nodded, looking at him squarely as he came into you view over you. He looked at you hard for a moment before pressing his hand right over your heart. Pain shot into every nerve ending. It felt as if fire ants crawled across your skin and bit every inch. Flames licked at your toes and you wanted to scream but you couldn’t. He was holding you to the bed as your body begged to move, begged to die. You were hoping the death would be quick. Anything had to be better than this. Soon, your body would shut down as it went into shock and maybe the pain wouldn’t be so bad. The flames began to die out, ice taking its place as a dull chill crept across your skin. It pricked at your fingertips, becoming uncomfortably cold as if you had stuck your hand in ice for too long. You became sleepy, but this was a different kind of sleep. It was almost as if everything were quietly shutting down together. If this was how dying felt it wasn’t so bad. The last time you tried, you hadn’t been able to actually die. It was almost as if you and all the friends you loved laid down together in each other’s arms, sleeping into the beyond. Slowly, your heart began to skip a beat here or there. Your lungs tried just a little harder to draw in air. Your heart skipped every third beat. Your eyelids got heavier and your breathing got shorter. Your body felt heavy as if someone had laid a weighted blanket over you. Your heart beat one more time and then stopped.

Everything came back in a blinding white light. Warmth flushed over your body like a warm river and the feeling came back to your fingers and toes. Your skin no longer burned but felt soothed as if someone had rubbed a healing balm over your entire body. You breathed in deeply and exhaled even longer, life coming back into your lungs. Your heart beat softly in your chest.

What you couldn’t see nor feel, was currently happening before his eyes. He watched with rapt fascination and desire as the same tattoos he bore slowly etched themselves across your skin. Your name spelled out slowly in red lines, also in Hebrew, but it wasn’t your Christian name. Hellblazer. Lucifer’s mark disappeared from your skin as another of his own sigil appeared over your heart then another, upside down, etched itself over the other, signaling the binding of souls.

Your eyes flew open as you inhaled as if coming up for air after being held under the water. The room came into focus in blinding color. Now fully a citizen of Hell, you could see it for its true beauty. Emerald stone fireplace, golden fixtures, dark as midnight velvet curtains, and the fire that burned was the truest red you had ever seen.

He slammed his hips into yours and the pleasure shot back into your limbs causing you to fall instantly into an orgasm.

You finally felt whole. The pull to him even stronger now. It was so strong you were sure he could be millions of miles away and you’d still be able to find him. Fire and passion burned inside of you, in your soul, and you were finally able to feel. The bond even affected him as he shuddered against you, but he kept pounding into you with a force that only hinted at his need for you. He pushed his hands underneath your back and up to your shoulder blades, pulled you upwards, and had the both of you flipped in seconds. You were dazed as you planted your hands on his chest, still sitting on his cock as he adjusted himself beneath you. He slowly ran his hands up your sweaty thighs, fingers tracing over the new lines on your skin. You looked down at your arms, the dark markings too out of focus for you to see what they were right now. Any noticeable scar you had, of which you had many, was now gone. Where there wasn’t a tattoo, your skin was porcelain white and clear of any flaws. Your breathing felt clearer now and the pleasure you felt building up inside of you just by sitting here caused you to shudder. He hissed as you squeezed around him and his fingers dug into your hips.

“Fuck me, baby girl.” He sounded desperate as his head fell back and his eyes closed. His skin shone with sweat and you could see him for the full ethereal beauty he was. He did have a little of Heaven in him still. Dark with light. Good with evil. A demon and an angel. He would never be one without the other.

You rolled your hips against him and he tensed and relaxed all at once as he got what he wanted. He grew hotter inside of you again and your thighs slid easily alongside his as the heat between you built. He sat up, legs still off the side of the bed as he held you close to his chest. You draped your left arm across his shoulders as you braced yourself on his right knee, rolling your hips into his, his hot cock brushing against your g-spot with each circle of your hips. He kissed your throat, bit the skin on your collarbone, and then drew your nipple in his mouth once more. He had handfuls of your ass in both hands, assisting you as you fucked yourself on his cock. He dipped his fingers between your legs from behind, catching the juices that now coated him at each thrust and he traced his fingers around your asshole before pushing one wet finger inside. You hissed, inhaling deeply as he pushed in slowly.

“Keep fucking me, baby,” he said as he kissed the side of your neck.

Your grip on his shoulders tightened as your right arm now crossed his back. Your cheek rested on his shoulder as you moved your hips. He moved his finger in rhythm with the bounce of your hips and soon you were moaning harder as you bit into his skin. He pushed another wet finger inside, stretching you in the most pleasurable of ways, pressing against that thin layer of skin that separated him from your g-spot. You clenched hard around him, his hot body pressed against yours, as pleasure ran hot inside of you, coming hard around him as you gushed around his cock. It dripped against his fingers as you made a mess of his lap, fingers still moving slowly in your ass.

“All mine,” he said before licking at the salty sweetness of your skin.

The space between you was wet, but he paid no mind as he pulled his fingers from you, grabbed your ass again and started to use your swollen cunt. You could barely keep your eyes open as you focused all your strength to your thighs, helping him as you clutched at his shoulders, face still nestled in his neck. His breathing quickened and his thighs tensed beneath yours. The bond between you only amplified his pleasure as yours seemed to mix and meld with his. Your orgasm flowed into his nervous system and pleasure flowed outwards from him in waves. He came hard with the memory of your soul binding to his, the same fire burned under his skin. He filled you up and then some, his cum even warmer than his cock as you physically felt it spill out around him, mixing with your cum as well. His fingers on your ass loosened, not even realizing how hard he was holding on and you relaxed on his lap and fully into his chest. His chest rose and fell softly as he came down. He wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you in closer as he grew a little softer inside of you.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded into his neck, holding on just a little bit tighter. He laid back again and this time you let your head fall against his chest to hear his heartbeat beneath you; the same heart now connected to yours. Your life was in his hands now, and his in yours.

“I’ll bring down Heaven for you.”

You melted into him, tired, but fulfilled. You finally felt redeemed. Your soul was still in Hell where it belonged, that much you weren’t going to argue, but you had come to terms that this would be permanent for you. You had gained back what you wanted and more which was hardly fair. But when it came to a side you felt as if you were on the right side of the line. A second heart beat in time with yours. A second soul twisted out and grasped onto yours like vines. You were two, but one. A Prince and a human, side by side in this new age.

Far away, on Earth, and nowhere near the clutches of a place that was slowly crawling to the surface, the Pope sat at his window looking out into the night. Over the horizon of the lights of Rome, thunder rumbled, and lightening began to streak across the sky as a storm approached. He felt the change on the air as it charged with electricity. Whatever was happening was going to be catastrophic to humankind.

“It’s in your best interest to do that now. There’s going to be a war soon and Earth will suffer just as many consequences. You’ll want to find yourself on the right side.”

The Prince’s words plagued his thoughts during the day and his dreams at night. Guilt rested deep into his heart; his faith tested. In his hand he held the brooch, the symbolism of his betrayal. Whether Heaven or Hell won, he had chosen his side.

[yandere-wishes]

💝My Obsession // Yandere! Leona Kingscholar x Reader// 💝

Someone, please explain to me how all my Leona fics end up being 2,500+ words?? Also props to whoever figures out which anime got inspired by to write the ending. Any way enjoy also thanks so much to @malleusthorns​ their game motivated me to write this.

Warning: Gore...I guess.

🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁

There was a throbbing that wouldn't seem to go away, reverberating through the young girl's skull. Bouncing from wall to wall of her cranium just like a bouncy ball. The pain caused her to close her eyes tighter, trying to lull herself back into the numb comatose that had started to crack under the weight of alertness. Tiny fracture sprinkled around the darkness, noting to fully break her dormant mind. That was until something icy and wet splashed over her face, jolting her from her slumber.

(Y/n)'s eyes shot open, tears forming at the sides ready to slip out. She was becoming cognizant of the hammering in her head. A shiver ran up her spin before creeping over her skin, laying cutis anserina in its wake. As her sense began to awaken one by one, (y/n) started to feel a tug on her shoulder. The poor girl tried pulling her humerus forward, only for her skin to scrape against a smooth, freezing surface. Something was bounding her arms...and her legs she noted as she tried to kick her feet. 

Nervously her bloodshot eyes scanned the room, it was dark and chilly. Something was causing every hair on her body to stand up on high alert, her guts where entwining amongst themselves screaming that something just wasn't right. Endless minutes flew by before a rollicking noise jarred silent darkness. A tapping soon followed, pittering across the floor. One second she could practically feel their presence less than a millimeter away from her. The next all she had was their even,never-changing noise where, she could only assume, was in front of her.

'Please talk' a  timid voice croaked inside her head. 'Please say something' the nervous noise was poking at her tolerance. 'Just talk!' she couldn't tell if she'd actually screamed out the words or only hollered them inside her head. Either way, it did not matter, the footsteps only continued on their way, ignoring her presence altogether. The steps were getting further and further...the footfalls ceased and were instead replaced by a ripping noise that echoed through the emptiness.

In moments the obscurity was pierced by thin feeble rays of silver light. Despite the lights infirm nature it's brightness (y/n) still shut her eyes in an attempt to stop the stinging that had sparked from the back of her eyeballs. Endless minutes passed before a heavy sigh filled the air accompanied by the mirthless voice of the mysterious kidnapper. "Life's not fair is it?"

That question, that signature rhetorical question that had all but engraved its self in the depths of (y/n)'s memory. There was only one person, one person in the entirety of the world that could state such an overlooked fact as if it was the foundation that life was built on, one person...

"Leona..." Her whisper was as light as the air itself, the name of her beloved childhood friend mingled with the air before it was carried off into oblivion. Craning her head to the right, (Y/n)'s eyes caught the ever so familiar frame of the Savanclaw dorm leader. His green eyes glowed in the eerie rays. His posture wasn't as lax like it always was. There was an eagerness to him, an unsteadiness engulfing him. His spin was stark straight, his gloved fingers dug into his hips, scrunching the fabric of his shirt. "Surprised kitten?" his voice rumbled from his chest, echoing through the room. "You really shouldn't be, you've had this coming for some time."

(y/n)'s brows knitted together, whatever had been spilled on her earlier was starting to dry over her face. Sticking to her visage like a second skin. "L-Leona..." her voice was brittle, wither away like a dying rose. "W-what are...are you talking about?" dread was wrapping it's decaying thin arms around her, hover above the doomed darling watching the spectacle. "Wh..why am I here?" questions where bubbling inside the girl, floating out of her mouth and lingering in the stale air. It did little to phase Leona, he just kept starring and starring. Almost like a predator hunting its prey.

Slowly the lion boy stalked forward, his tail swished from side to side, almost like he was nervous about something...When he was close enough he leaned over. With one hand he tilted the metal chair backward. With the motion (y/n)'s head tipped backward. Their faces were close, far too close, (y/n) could feel every breath that Leona took. There was malice and sadness hidden behind his emerald orbs. His face was twisted into a snarl, sharp teeth on full display. "Why do you always have to be so dame clueless?"

(y/n)'s nerves were starting to snap. If this was a sick joke, then it had lost its humor the moment she woke up. "Stop it!" her voice creaked like old floorboards. Her vocal cords strained almost on the verge of bleeding as she tried to morphed her tone into an intimidating one. "This..this isn't funny Leona!!" The older boy rolled his eyes. He tipped the chain back to its initial position. Before waling behind her and undoing the restraints. Just as (y/n) came to move her arms, Leona forcefully pushed the chair into the ground. (Y/n)'s face slammed against the dirty floor, bouncing upwards from the sheer force before falling down numbly once more.

Leon watched as the young girl tried to get up, balancing herself on her hands and knees. as she stretched her neck to look up at him, he noted that blood was pooling under a few areas on her face and left eye. Creating supple red bruises. Though he would never say it out loud, she looked pretty like this, she had always looked her best when she was bleeding of hurt in some manner, it caused a sort of glow to orbit around her. But her beauty did little to make up for her insolence. There was a storm brewing inside him of him the anger, danger, and a newly awoken darkness where entwining birthing the personification of his obsession.

"By the king of beasts," he grumbled as his fingers shot up to his temple, as they always did when the iteration of the situation was planting another neuralgia in his head  "I want you...no, you are mine, you have always been mine! You're just so stupidly dense that you never once realized it!"

(Y/n)'s eyes widen in disbelief, her heart was pounding against her rib cage practically breaking her ribs with each beat. Nervously she brought the back of her hand to her face, trying to distract herself. As she went to wipe the substance off her face. The substance cracked and peeled off the second her hand rubbed against it. As it fell it revealed a sticky layer underneath. Retracting her arm quickly (y/n) tried to see what it was that she had just touched...Another wave of shock rolled over her...

"B-blood?" Frantically her eyes ran up to Leona's begging for answers. The dark-skinned boy shrugged. "I didn't like your history project partner". (y/n) gulped, "How long?" her question silently floated between them, acting as a shield brightened by the dimly light. Leona only raised an eyebrow, he opened his mouth an inch but closed it once he heard the choked sobs and enraged shouts coming from his "lover". "How long?"... there was no reply. "How long have you felt this way!" It was a stupid question. (y/n) knew, if anything she had known for far too long, but she had been so happy in her hubris. So content with playing "sibling" with her childhood friend, she knew how he had felt for far too long. But everything had been so sweet, so pleasant, almost like a fairy tale. It was easier to look for a prince charming in other men and expect her "big brother" to be there and catch her once that prince inevitably broke her heart. 

A sharp pain in her scalp caused the girl to look up. Leona was kneeling in front of her, pulling her hair up to look her directly in the eyes.

"Stop being so selfish and just fuking be mine already! it's not that fucking hard!" His yells held a desperate undertone, the big strong king of Savanclaw was reduced to this? A lovesick boy? Angrily (y/n) took in a deep unsteady breath before bellowing: "I'm the selfish one? You kidnapped me and tied me to a chair! You broke that beautiful illusion we had! To want to throw away our friendship for what? So we can break each other's hearts?!"

Leona remained dumbfound, his grip on her hair strengthened. "Actually I ordered Ruggie to kidnap you so that on him" he tried to keep a haughty prideful tone, but her words had left a growing bruise on his ego.

"Doesn't matter! if anything that just further proves my point! You are the selfish one! Just fess up, you're the one at fault here!"

Leona's body had begun vibrating with rage. Lifting his free hand he struck (y/n)! His claws snipped at her flesh,  tearing apart skin tissue by skin tissue as if it was nothing more then silk fabric. Slashing at the muscles until there was a large enough opening for the blood to flow past. Trickling down her cheek the mood pushed away the rotten plasma caking her face, splattering on her clothes, leaving large messy circular like stains.

"No no! This! This whole fucked up mess we're in is all your fault! It's always been your fault!" Leona roared. His pupils had started to dilate, tears were forming in his eyes. Swiftly the older boy lifted his fist only to smash it onto (y/n)'s, again and again, and again...

Laughter, a sicking, and high pitch bordering on maniacal. Leona stopped his assault, his brows shot upwards, as his mouth twisted in a snarl, creases started forming on the bridge of his nose. How dare she laugh at him! How dare she mock him!

(Y/n) opened her eyes, they were harboring similar insanity as her kidnapper. Her mouth opened permitting her to cough up some blood that had pooled inside. "Why can't you just accept responsibility? You were always like this! Even when we were kids! Nothing was ever your fault because you were such a tragic little prince weren't you! If you really love me then own it! Don't blame me for your obsession! It wasn't my fault! I thought you...I thought you were happy with what we had!" Leona slowly pulled away. His green gaze never once leaving (y/n)'s damaged face. His fingers unlocked from her hair, which causes the young girl to immediately start rubbing the top of her head.

"I don't really care how you see this situation. My fault -which it isn't- Your fault -which it is- the point is...you're mine now and that's how it's going to be..." Leona's hand slithered over to (y/n)'s wrist, gripping it and pulling her into his arms. (y/n) buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in his nostalgic scent, as he calmly petted her head as if she was a pet cat.

Time had frozen, granting the two so-called lovers a break of sorts. For the endless moment. It wasn't until Leona had gotten bored of their little hug, that the two moved. Leona's hands dug into her shoulder, he leaned his head down just as (y/n) tilted her head up. Lips brushing against each other prepping for a kiss.

The quietness was disrupted by a loud banging noise from behind them followed by an airy sound that got louder and louder. Until it struck right past Leona. Cutting the fabric of his jeans and slicing through his flesh. The lion let out a hiss, jumping to his feet and pulling (y/n) up with him. He pushed her to his chest as he maneuvered his body into an attacking pose.

"Let go of (y/n)! You horrible beast!" "Ecoute a lui, roi des lions" "Don't touch (y/n) Onee-chan!"

Those voices, (y/n)'s mind rushed back to the situation. She had seemingly forgotten just what Leona had done to her. The kidnapping, the humiliation, the beating...somehow it had all ran away from her memory the moment her beloved Leona had embraced her. 

Behind the "couple" Rook shot arrow after arrow, aiming for the lion's limbs. One lucky arrow managed to strike Leona's left bicep. The lion boy let out a pained roar, his arm falling limp to his side as blood gushed downwards. "Rook, Ortho now!" Vil's voice boomed through the chamber. Rook nodded as Ortho replied with a "sure thing". The two raced forward, Rook switching his bow for a pocket knife and Ortho punching Leona with his metal fist. Leona tried to fight back but with his wound and the gang up he mostly ended up getting punched.

Sometime before the attack had fully commenced, Leona had shoved (y/n) to the side. Vil ran up to (y/n) grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the exit. Right before he left the "king" of Pomefiore snapped his fingers, causing both Ortho and Rook to leave a bruised and broken Leona. "How did you find me?" (Y/n) asked as she was directed through the maze of hallways and staircases. Vil turned his head to stare at her for a split second before running forward. The hallways were just as dark as the room she had been kept in, the numerous windows were covered by thick black curtains preventing the moon from sharing its light. However, thanks to Ortho's built-in flashlights the gang had a clear, illuminated view of a few feet in front of them. "Idia saw Ruggie knock you out and drag you to the catacombs" Vil explained, his grip on her wrist tightened. As the group ran to the Ignhyde dorm, (y/n) couldn't stop herself from peering over her shoulder. Expecting..no, hoping that her childhood friend would pounce out of the darkness at any moment and chase after them. It was a longing to see the boy she had known her whole life chase after her, the only difference was that this time if he did catch her, she would not object to his advances. But Leona never came...

and she was beginning to think he never would.

Days have a tendency to blend when together there is nothing left to look forward to. (y/n) couldn't remember how long it had been since that night in the NRC catacombs, how long it had been since that "confession"? Time had turned into a paradox, having simultaneously stooped and sped up. Idia and Ortho had taken the role of her caretaker. Bringing her food and checking up on her from time to time. Idia had even broken his shut-in nature just for her, every once in awhile he'd bring over some games to play. Ortho would pop in every day, trying his hardest to entertain the stoic girl. But no matter how hard either Shroud twin tried (y/n) would never smile, her face would never forme any real expression. She only ever spoke when necessary, conversations with her mostly consisted of nobs and grunts. Some days after school Vil or Rook would stop by the Ignihyde dorm with treats. Hoping to return (y/n) to her old, innocent self.

Deep down (y/n) was grateful for the efforts the boys put in. But it felt so meaningless go hollow. What was the point of it all? (y/n) could feel the threads of her sanity slowly ripping. Her days and nights -granted she'd lost track of which was when- where filled with constant pondering over guilty thoughts. Every single one of her waking moments was dedicated to envisioning that damned day, dreaming of just how it could have turned out. Why didn't she just kiss him? Why didn't she jump into his arms and scream that she was his? That she would always be his? That it didn't matter how they loved each other so long as the love was there.

Earlier that morning Vil had stopped by to tell (y/n) that  Leona had come back from the semester break. It had seemed like a warning after all Vil was only trying to look out for her. The thought that Leona was back had sent her heart aflutter. She may have not shown it but her nerves where a wreck, she was both excited and nervous. A nagging voice in the back of her mind kept screaming that he wouldn't care about her that she had lost her chance the night she let herself be rescued by Vil, Rook, and Ortho. But a small piece of her still begged that Leona would come for her, that he still loved her.

Sleep was something that came in waves, sometimes she would sleep for days on end, and other times she would spend weeks in an insomniac daze. Tonight was one of the later nights. (y/n)'s eyes refused to close, her brain resisted the urge to think about anything other than Leona. She spent so many nights with his face in her head, mulling over every little detail. As the hours ticked by, (y/n)'s eyes started to grow heavier and heavier. The final scene the moment he said he loved her or at least tried to was still so vibrant in her semi asleep head. She could still hear his voice, his shouts and cries....his voice why was it so clear?--

"You know~ in another life, we could have gotten married, you could have been my queen and I, your king. We could have been happy like all those other happy idiots of the world." 

(Y/n) bolted upright, her hands suffocating her blanket. Her window had been reduced to dirt. Leaning against the frame of where the windowpane had been was no other than the man that had plunged her thought for far too long. Standing on her bed and walking over to him, (y/n) couldn't help the larger than life smile that spread over her face or the tears of joy that just wouldn't seem to stop.

She came to a stop in front of him. Just like that night, the moon's rays of silver light cast a surreal glow over Leona's frame. He looked almost like an angel sent to free her from her suffering. "What..what makes you think we...we could ever be normal?" A tiny laugh escaped her mouth as she wiped the tears from her face. All Leona did was smirk, he extended his arm, his open palm beckoning her to take it. Eagerly (y/n) grabbed a hold of his arm, her grip was tight, too scared to let go always this all be some illusion fabricated by her tortured mind.

"Oi shut up already idiot...just stay quiet" He pulled her up, back into his arms, right where she belonged. His embrace was nothing short of bone-crushing. But (y/n) didn't mind, the pain proved just how real how was. With a final tug, Leona pulled her out of the window. As they began to fall to the ground, Leona smiled, a genuine smile that for once harbored no ill intent nor ulterior motive and said:

"You will always be my obsession (y/n) just as I have become yours..."

[jkcreation]

Chapter 1- Let Me Tell You a Story…

Let me tell you about a time when I met a Magic Knight Captain, who, at first glance, was overwhelmingly daunting. For awhile I was working in a popular pub in the capital. From time to time I would see various Magic Knights come into the pub to relax for the evening. Heck, we would even see groups of Magic Knights get together for the sole purpose of trying to get girls at mixers. Usually, it resulted in utter failure, ending in everyone either leaving alone, or a huge bar fight. Magic Knight Captains however, were always a rare sight. After all, out of all the kingdom's residents there are only nine captains. From what I’ve seen and from stories I’ve heard, there seemed to be a common trend that someone associated with the Magic Knights seemed to be an acquired taste.

When I first saw Jack the Ripper, the Magic Knight Captain of the Green Mantises, I won’t lie - he seemed dangerous. The kind of dangerous that if I would make the slightest mistake he would have killed me on the spot. Plus, there were rumours about him that didn't help this visage.

When he entered the pub with long defined strides, he was tall and lean but clearly built. He had shoulder length black hair which was wild and untamed. His shirt barely covered his torso leaving little to the imagination of his abs, which were also very clearly defined. His golden eyes were sharp and focused, while he wore a sinister smile. He wore a green folded half cape adorned with the logo of the Green Mantises with his grimoire holstered behind him.

Taking a deep breath, I shook off the thought of danger, after all he was not in my section so he wasn’t my concern. I looked around to find the waitress that was serving his section, and I found she was tending to some young men at another table who were fawning over her. I recall thinking to myself that she would get to him soon enough, and that he wasn’t my problem. I continued my evening as normal, with frequent glances over in his direction. Every now again I would catch him, staring back at me with a grin plastered on his face, though his eyes were shooting daggers. This caused the hairs at the back of my neck to stand on end. It was intense, having his powerful gaze directed at me. I couldn’t help it. His leering gaze was enough to jumpstart my imagination.

My mind wanders to a place where Jack has me pinned, both hands above my head in only one of his. This seems almost too easy for him, as if he does these sorts of things on the regular. Staring intently at me while I trembled with anticipation of his touch below him. His one hand glided over my exposed skin slowly tracing down between my legs, encircling my clit, teasing me. His face drawing near mine as if he would be breathing in my essence. I begged him for more… Suddenly snapping back to reality, I caught myself staring at him, with heat pooling deep in my center.

‘Oh no, I thought to myself, he hasn’t even been served yet!’ I realized, and was overcome by a sense of panic. There seemed to be a complete lack of service to his table, as there we no drinks or even silverware to be found. I looked around for his server and found her to still be invested at her previous table, I’m guessing she enjoys the attention. I quickly ran over to his table mentally preparing myself for the worst. ‘No wonder he was shooting daggers at me’ I thought as I steadied my breath.

Mustering up my courage, I head over to his table. “Hello sir! Has anyone come to take your order yet?” Surprisingly, I was able to give him a genuine smile with ease. He leaned over the table with a leering gaze.

“Heh, it’s about time! I wanted an ale 20 minutes ago!” He muttered, without enthusiasm. Tilting his head slightly to the side, he inspected me up and down. His long fingers tapped on the tabletop impatiently, and I quickly bowed to him in an apologetic fashion. Peeking up, I thought I could see his eyes trailing to my exposed cleavage.

I hope he likes the view, I wonder how well my breasts would fit in his hands…

“Absolutely, I do apologize about the long wait! I’ll have that drink for you right away.” A smirk crossed his lips, it was kinda cute, if he didn’t look like he wanted to cut me. I quickly ran off to grab his first drink without delay. I wasn’t looking, but I could feel his eyes on my back, and my behind, as I quickly headed to the bar.

Upon returning he seemed somewhat impressed. I quickly handed his drink to him and plucked the mug from my grasp, his fingers feathering mine. His hands were large, strong, and rugged. He drank the ale in one swig, and his long tongue slowly licked up the dribble of alcohol on his chin.

Oh that tongue! I could clearly see myself falling prey to his strong grasp, forcing me to sit on his face as he licks up my nectar, lunging that tongue deep inside. Over, and over, and over until I can’t take it anymore... My breath hitches in my throat as reality hits me.

“Get me another!” he said as he thrusted the mug towards me. His gaze softened ever so slightly as surprise crossed my face.

“Sure thing, I take it you had a rough day today?” I quietly said to him as I grasped the still cool mug from his clutch.

“I didn’t have a bad day, heh heh… I was just really thirsty. In fact, I had a great day, I got to slice up some of my squad who couldn’t make the cut.” He said in a harsh but oddly jovial tone. I couldn’t help but to giggle at the pun. I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help myself. A blush bloomed across my cheeks, feeling the heat rising inside I quickly turned around to grab him another drink from the bar, trying to calm myself down.

“Heyyyyy purdy lady...” a drunken man slurred. “How bout you spend some time with me and my boyz, come here sit on my lap.” His strong hand gripped tightly on my wrist, causing me to drop the empty mug in shock.

This was the table that the other waitress had been tending. I use the word ‘tending’ lightly, as she was currently perched on a gentleman’s lap serving drinks.

“Come on, it’ll be more fun if you join us!” The waitress purred.

“Oh no! Please let me go sir, you’re hurting me!” He tightened his grasp and pulled me to sit down on him. I could feel his member press up against me. “Let go of me!”

The other waitress piped up “Oh don’t be like that! You know if you treat these guys right they will give you some good tips!” She giggled as she wiggled further down into her guests lap.

“Yeah, we’ll give you good tips if you help entertain us, your friend can only do so much. I want to feel you squirm on my lap, too.” The brute said in a lecherous tone, as he grabbed tighter and pulled me closer into him. It was so disgusting, I remember closing my eyes so tight trying to pretend this wasn’t actually happening.

“Hey loser! Do you want to see me slice off your hands without cutting the woman? I can promise you it’s really impressive!” Green blades of mana spawn from the Knight Captain's arms and he runs his long tongue across the blade. I looked up at him, right now in this moment I was so thankful he came to my rescue. Or at least part of me was hoping he was coming to my rescue.

“Piss off bean pole, pretty lady’s going to be entertaining me and my lads tonight.” He grabbed even tighter than before as I gasped in pain, it was sure to leave a bruise later.

“Hey man, ya know that’s the Magic Knight Captain, Jack the Ripper… I wouldn’t mess with him, he's crazy.” One of the assailant's comrades chimed in.

“Heh heh, you don’t even seem to be worth slicing up, but it could be a fun challenge to cut you to bits without getting a drop of blood on the girl. Who wants to see me do it? I do like a challenge” Jack gestured to the now silent pub.

Looking up at the Captain, my eyes pleaded for him to get rid of these drunken bastards. I didn’t really care how, I just wanted them gone. It was as if he could read my mind, as he quickly maneuvered towards the man and sliced with extreme precision, leaving only his undergarments. The drunkard pushed me off in a panic and Jack managed to catch me from falling flat on my bottom. The poor excuse of a man clumsily staggered and ran out the door with his friends in tow, leaving the waitress behind scared and confused.

“Th-thank you, s-sir.” My back pressed up so close to his body, I looked back up to him. Noticing that he’s so warm…

His strong arms holding me tight is making my heart beat faster. I could feel my hips grind up into him as he rips down my panties, sliding his cock in from behind me, penetrating my ass leaving me wanting, and soaking wet… CALM DOWN GET OUT OF THE GUTTER YOU’RE WORKING! I internally screamed at myself.

“Don’t mention it, heh heh, it’s too bad I missed his hands.” He seethed. “I would have loved to slice them off, it would have felt so good heh heh.” While it sounded like he was disappointed it didn’t feel like it. “Any blood on you?” He firmly grabbed my chin and inspected my face side to side. Upon not seeing any blood a smile returned to his face. “Your wrists have some bruising.”

“I’m fine….” I responded, I was honestly so disgusted and ashamed that I didn’t do anything to stop the drunk from pushing me against his member, I felt so violated. “It was nothing to worry about, but thank you.” I tried to pass off my most genuine smile I could muster.

“You know… they might come back for you later.” Jack said. The thought hadn’t occurred to me and I could feel the blood drain from my face when he said that.

“You will need to be careful when walking home tonight.” He said earnestly, still holding onto me. It took me a moment to register that I was still in his arms, I pulled myself away from his warm grasp, which left me disappointed.

“I’m off in an hour, if you're still around by then I might just get you a drink as a thank you.” A bright grin lit up his face.

I turned back to continue work, picking up the mug that I had dropped onto the floor. Wiping up the droplets of ale so no one would slip,I wondered if I could engineer a way to fall, preferably into his arms… Bringing the mug to the back, the other waitress that had gotten a little too comfortable at her only table pulled me aside with a sneer.

“You know I was working that table all night! Now because of your stupid stunt they stuffed me with the bill and I got nothing from it!” She berated. “You’re the one who’s going to pay for that table's drinks tonight because you couldn't play nice with those drunks.”

“You know if you did your damned job you would have more than enough tips to cover that. I’m not paying for those disgusting pigs because you want to play as a whore in a brothel.” I growled back, pushing against her clenched fist. “You need to get out of my face, I have people who are hungry and thirsty to take care of. Either you can help me and take care of your section or go home because you're wasting everyone’s time!” I pushed her back, though a little harder than intended, and she fell back into the wall and slid down. She began to cry and pretending to be hurt, ‘Great she’s making a scene’ I thought to myself.

“What is going on here?” I heard the manager's voice and the pit of my stomach sank to the bottom of my feet. This girl had a thing with the bar manager for a while now. I knew that I was done for the moment she ran crying into his arms spewing lies that I attacked her after scaring off a large group of customers and refusing to take responsibility and pay their bill. He turned to me with sheer abhorrence in his eyes.

“You’re fired. Get out of my pub.” He said curtly as she smiled under the crocodile tears streaming down her face.

“Who needs a good worker when you have a good lay right?” I stated plainly as I tossed the manager some coins. “This is for the table with the Green Mantis Captain, it should cover his drinks and one more if you think you’re competent enough to bring him one without falling on his cock too.” I chided.

Making sure to grab my bag before I left, I made a beeline for the door, trying to keep my head held high. I cannot allow myself to show any weakness. I was intentionally avoiding any possible glances with the Magic Knight Captain, as I had promised him to buy him a drink as thanks. But what I didn’t promise was to stay and enjoy the drink with him. Would he even enjoy having me in his presence?

“Leaving so soon? I thought you would buy me a drink heh heh. Don’t tell me you're trying to get out of your promise! If you did, I wouldn’t have to wonder what it would be like to slice up something so innocent. Heh heh heh.” A familiar voice said while looming over me with a large grin plastered across his face and his cheeks rosy from the alcohol.

“I’m sorry about that! My shift finished early tonight, but I did pay for your drinks and one more if you wanted. I just have to go now.” I said faking a smile, as I was trying to keep my injured pride concealed. I turned to walk away towards the door to leave. Opening the door the air outside was cool as it washed over me causing me to shiver. The uniform was short and didn’t provide much in the way of protection from the cold. I wonder what my ass looks like from behind, and if he is paying any attention to my departure.

[snowpeawritings]

If you're okay with this request, how about Akira and (Female S/O) had a heated argument, forgive each other after, and then have make-up sex?

Reader is female

ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP

CW (CONTENT WARNING): Sexual scenes, swearing

"So... What did you want to talk about that you needed to get away from the team?"

You rubbed your arms, the gloves on your hands making you feel secure as you looked away from your leader. "You don't have to baby me because I'm new. I get it but it's embarrassing."

The memory was still fresh even when it happened a few floors above. Your leader opting to only switch you in the main team as a healer instead of dishing out attacks. Perhaps the only time you actually shot something was when you were in the backline as you spotted an opening. That was different when you compared to your other teammates risking themselves against the Shadows.

"I'm not babying you." He replied, his stoic visage unbreaking. "It's just that we're in too deep within this Palace right now and you aren't caught up with us. I had to put you in the back in case enemies get the jump on you."

He was coddling you and you hated it. You gripped your sleeves tighter as you tried to steady your voice. "Yeah, I get that. But shouldn't I be ready to be on the front right now?"

His expression didn't waiver but you could see from the twitch of his lip that your stubbornness was getting to him. "The last time I did that, you got recoiled by your own gun and I had to save you."

Your face burned from the embarrassing memory. "That was an accident! I swear I learned and it won't happen again!"

He scoffed lightly, a sound that had your blood boiling. "The next time I hope you won't get blown away by your own winds."

Oh, that did it.

"The hell is your problem?" You spat out, stomping closer to Joker as you removed your mask. With it gone, he was free to examine the absolute pissed expression on your face. "I've been doing nothing but following your orders to a T and now you're here telling me off because I suck?!"

He let out a sharp breath through his nose as he stepped away from you. "I didn't say that. And don't pin it on me that you suck."

You laughed at that, a sharp, bitter sound that had Joker squint his eyes at you. "Oh really? Then I must really take on the teacher then considering you were so eager to help me through the Metaverse!"

That got him. His slate eyes now narrowed from your insult that he removed his own mask. Now both of you were naked to see each other's angered faces. "What did you say?"

"You heard me!" You barked out, stepping closer that he had to step back until his back collided against the wall. "You were the one who volunteered to teach me how to use my Persona. And since I suck so much, then that must mean you're a terrible teacher!"

If his façade was cracking before, he was full on getting angry each time you insulted his prowess. "It isn't on me when you can't comprehend how to fight. That should've been your problem to fix!"

You glared at him harder before stepping closer, effectively trapping him between the wall and you. "It wouldn't be a problem if you were a better leader then."

He didn't say anything after that. You were both surprised and gleeful at that. Joker-or even Akira-always had a quip at the ready whenever things don't go his way. So to have him completely silent right after your last words was something you were going to take pride on.

… Still, he is taking a long time to respond.

He hasn't dropped down his glare nor has he spoken a word. You thought that you had crossed a line, an apology ready at your throat but he beat you to it. He pushed you off, the action slightly stinging your heart before he went towards the door.

"... You want to be in the frontline?"

You flinched when he spoke, his voice sounding like how he talks to the ones who belittle him. It made the blood in you that was previously boiling turn ice cold.

"The next fight we face," he continued, keeping his front away from you, "they're all yours."

> . . .

Maybe he was right. Maybe you truly did need to be at the backline instead.

It couldn't be helped; the Shadows that basically trampled over your team like all that careful planning on Joker's end all came to ruin.

And it was your fault.

Fox and Skull both knocked down the enemy with Physical skills, in which you tried to aim for a Wind spell to finish them off but it turns out they absorb wind damage. After a hasty apology from you and them getting back up, as if the world wants to embarrass you further, one of the Shadows landed a critical hit on all of you. It took the combined efforts of Joker's tired shot-calling and the powers of Mona, Queen, and Panther to destroy them.

It wasn't even worth the time and effort when their drops were shit. With Mona and Queen healing your team, you barely looked anyone in the eye as it was your turn to get healed up.

Queen was the one who healed you, letting out the last of her SP before patting your shoulder. "It's not your fault."

You didn't respond. She let out a small breath through her nose before turning to see Joker. "Joker? Did you need something?"

You couldn't bear to see him in the eyes. Not after your stunt before and during the fight. "I just want a word alone with Madame."

The flinch gave away your feelings. In front of you Queen stood her guard. "Please don't be too hard on her. They just wanted to prove themselves to us. None of this is her fault."

A pause before he spoke once more. "I won't."

Queen then stepped aside, letting Joker stand in front of you. His gloved hand, slightly worse for wear due to a Shadow biting it, reached for your own. "I'm not mad, I promise. We'll just talk."

His words brought some comfort to you but it doesn't change the fact that you wasted time. You gripped his hand back, not too strong but with shakiness that Joker had to tighten his grip a bit.

"Everyone else can go home." He called out. "We won't take long."

And with that, the rest of the team split up, leaving you and Joker to head to the nearest safe room. Thankfully there were no Shadows to interrupt your small journey as he opened the door and let you go in first. He shut the door behind him afterwards.

“I meant what I said that I’m not mad at you.” He said, noticing how you still kept your arms around yourself. “I realized when we were fighting that I really did baby you.”

He removed his mask, setting it down on the table as his eyes glossed over. “I’m sorry.”

You removed your mask as well, leaving it on the table before looking at Joker. His eyes were finally naked for you to see. His slate eyes slowly shining with brimming tears that you crossed the space between you two and gathered him in your arms. You never wanted to see that expression in his face. The expression that he’s always had way before he met the Phantom Thieves, the expression that he hides from others because of how cruel this world is to him.

“I’m sorry too.” You said after a while, voice muffled by his coat. “I said some stuff that I didn’t like… Pretty sure I went out of line as well…”

The weight on your shoulders had lifted when you felt Joker’s arms wrap around you, a tight, warm embrace despite the coat. “I’ll listen to you from now on, Joker.”

He sighed, his breath tickling your ear. “I’ll listen to you as well. Might as well when I completely suck as a leader.”

You snorted, nuzzling your nose against his neck. “Yeah you are. You’re the worst.”

A pinch on your side made you yelp. “I thought we were apologizing?”

You could practically hear his smirk. “We did. We’re way past that though.”

You giggled when he picked you up and spun you around, your hands automatically finding his shoulders as he set you down on the table. The cold surface tickled your behind but with Joker right between your legs, the cold didn’t bother you.

“I thought we weren’t gonna take too long.” You mused, letting your hands card through his hair.

He purred from your ministrations before lifting a hand to unbutton a bit of your blouse. “Apologizing didn’t take too long. This however…”

Once he freed a bit of your chest, he leaned down and nuzzled his face against it. His hair tickled against you but his lips brushing over your bare chest was enough to make you fuzzy. With him busy against your chest, you pushed off his coat as you felt his muscles from his sleeveless shirt. You were never gonna tell him that this was a look on him in order for him to have ammunition against you.

“You think they need us in a little while?” You breathed out, locking your ankles behind him so he gets closer. He ruts his hips against yours as you gasped, feeling a familiar hardness on your inner thigh.

His hands reached for your coat, opening it even more. “They can wait.”

There was no missions for the upcoming weeks due to an unfortunate incident that you couldn’t walk.

[mythgirlimagines]

DVHS Director’s Cut

Aka my favorite moments from each update, both funny and serious ones!

Don’t read if you haven’t finished reading yet!

Prologue

Waking up from a dream is disorienting when you don’t even know you’re sleeping. It’s even more disorienting when the only thing I can see when I open my eyes is black, sort of swirling. There’s almost no difference between my eyes being open or shut. I can’t describe it in as many words, not in any language I know. It’s negro, noir, schwarz. Black as far as I can see. Nothing more.

I open my mouth to scream, to cry out, to say anything, but my vocal chords refuse to work, even though I can feel the strain I’m putting on them. I can’t reach my hand up to grab my throat, I can’t kick out to see where I am. Nothing moves when I want it to. I can barely feel myself breathe at all. I can’t do anything but blink, which gives me no reprieve from the darkness, and try to scream. Am I still dreaming? Did I even wake up?

Somewhere to my side, though I can’t tell exactly where, someone laughs a distinct, peculiar laugh. Wait- I know that laugh. I- I need to get away! It comes closer as I try to struggle harder, to get away, anything. I can’t do anything!

The laughter stops as I feel the figure looming over me. I feel myself start to hyperventilate, black splotches laying over the black in front of me. This is how I die, isn’t it?

And, as though I hadn’t been awake at all, I fall back into unconsciousness.

1-1

“It’d be a lot easier if you pitched in a little,” Rikimaru gripes, somehow maneuvering two chairs over at once in her heels. I’m pretty sure she could stab someone with those.

...No. No murder thoughts.

“You all seem like you have it,” he says instead, the barest hint of a smirk on his lips. I roll my eyes, and perchance they land on Yoshida. She makes an all-bark, no-bite gesture towards him, and I have to stifle my laugh, especially as she quickly flips him off once his back is turned.

1-2

Ueda stays silent but busy for another minute, maybe ensuring that he’s gone. Once she’s certain, she sets down the paper plates and leans heavily on the table. Her shoulders shake violently. “Ueda?”

“I can’t do this.” It comes out as a whisper. Thanks to her hair, I can’t see her eyes behind her glasses. “The killing game is going to start, and we can do nothing to stop it.” Suddenly, her head jerks up, fearful tears brimming in her eyes. “Ishikawa...I’m terrified.”

I’m struck. Quite honestly, I have no idea what to do. What is someone supposed to do when a friend is having an emotional meltdown because of a killing game?

Not to mention, I didn’t think I’d ever see Ueda like...this. Devoid of confidence, crumbling like pastry dough. I could soothe her in any language, but words alone will do nothing. That leaves only one language.

I approach until I’m standing right in front of her. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tightly. She buries her head between my neck and shoulder, her tears staining my shirt. As tight as I’m holding her, she holds me tighter, still trembling, almost desperate. I am her grounding force, keeping her from panicking even more. Slowly, her heart rate drops back to normal, matching my steady beat. I rub her back gently, resting my chin on her shoulder- something I wouldn’t be able to do if she weren’t hunched over. I hold her close until she lets go, wiping her eyes under her glasses. One of her hands remains in mine. I give it a squeeze.

“We’ll be fine.” Her words are more to convince herself than for my benefit. “We’ll be fine.” I nod along as she repeats it, again and again, until her eyes are dry and she’s no longer trembling. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Ishikawa.” Her voice is still thick, catching on her words.

“Don’t apologize.” It takes a second for me to register that my thumb is rubbing the back of her hand. It’s very soothing.

1-3

“Damn it… How could we let this happen?” Abe looks crestfallen and outraged at this turn of events. I can’t focus on him too long, nor can I focus on Matsumoto. Miyuki stumbles over to me, terror written all over her face.

“How? Why?” She nearly falls into me. I try my best to support her weight, just as much as she tries to support mine. I’m just as shaken as she is. I just saw him last night! He was fine less than twelve hours ago.

God, this is the first time I’ve seen a dead body…

1-4

“Look, asshole, we said we didn’t do it! Who would want to aid in a murder anyway?” Yoshida shouts, slamming a fist on her podium. I wince; I’ve seen enough trial-based shows to know that getting angry only serves to degrade credibility.

And, unfortunately for her and Oshiro, Aoyama latches onto that, talking over the rest of us. ��Getting defensive, are we? Basically admitting your involvement.”

Oshiro’s eyes darken, her pupils and irises nearly indistinguishable from each other from this distance. She speaks calmly and clearly, though the room seems to drop several degrees. It’s like a storm is brewing around her, covering my arms in goosebumps as she talks. “Yoshida and I did not murder Matsumoto. Got it?”

“Besides, it’s not like there was actually an accomplice this time.” We all go silent. Monokuma looks up lazily as fifteen pairs of eyes land on him. “Did I say that out loud? Whoopsie.”

All of the anger dissipates from Yoshida’s visage, replaced with a mix of cautious relief and annoyance. “See? Told you. Prick.”

2-1

I won’t say it. I won’t question whether or not we’ll be out of here in time for her competition. Neither of us needs that, not now. “If you will, then I will, but only once we finish these Oreos.” I twist another apart, dark crumbs sticking to my fingers. “We didn’t break the nighttime rule for only a couple bites.”

“More than just the one. The rule of three, not opening the door for anyone. None of our esteemed headmaster’s rules, though.” She makes a face and bites into another Oreo, leaving nearly no crumbs. “You’re quite the daredevil.”

“Am not.”

“Are too! Wasn’t this your idea?” She smiles with her lips closed. “Admit it, you’re a rebel on the inside.”

I smile back. She’s right, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to tell her that. “Never!”

2-2

There’s a lot of noise coming from down the hall when I step out. I didn’t bother looking at my face first; I’m sure I look like a mess. Yoshida’s door is slightly ajar; that’s where the noise must be coming from. It’s really loud, like she’s...screaming...shit.

I’m not the only one who rushes over when I hear it. Abe is only a few steps behind me. “Yoshida!” I open the door quickly and step inside, only to find Yoshida, still in her pajamas, standing on her bed and cursing out Monokuma. “Um...what’s going on?”

“Monokuma just appeared in my room and woke me up!” Her glare doesn’t lessen any. “Scared me half to death.”

He blinks up at her, trying to look innocent despite being the exact opposite. “Promise?”

2-3

I don’t notice when Maeda leaves. I don’t notice how much time passes. All I know is her and those little smiles she sends me. I’m there watching until she skates towards me, leaning a little on the side right next to me. There’s no music; I didn’t even notice she didn’t put in another CD.

“So,” she says, her eyebrows somewhat raised. “Just friends?”

I sputter a little. “We didn’t exactly talk about any of this! I-” The words roll off of my tongue before I can stop them. “Yeah, I think I have a crush on you, but like-”

She stops me there with a tiny smile. “I have a crush on you, too. But we can’t do much about it, can we? If we were in school, just a school, we could, but-”

“There’s too much going on.” This damn killing game. There’s no guarantee that we can stay safe. It just complicates everything. “I’m pretty sure everyone thinks we’re already dating.”

“Maybe they’ve been betting on us like we’ve been betting on Hamasaki and Fujimoto,” she jokes, and the corners of her lips tilt up into a smile. “But I guess you should know that I really really do like you.”

My heart squeezes when she says that. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say that. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say to that. “I-”

“Let me try something?” she asks softly. Her eyes search mine until I nod, in total awe. She comes closer until I can feel her breath on my skin, and-

We shoot apart before anything happens as the locker room door opens. I nearly fall onto the seats behind me, and almost land on the floor. I groan internally. “Ueda, can you teach me how to do those technical moves?” Oshiro asks, bouncing in with a giant smile. I half expect Yoshida to be trailing behind her, but she’s alone. I guess that cuts the teasing in half. She only looks between us for a second before shrugging.

2-4

“Ishikawa.”

It’s too bright.

“Ishikawa, you need to get up.”

Too cold.

A hand grabs my arm and pulls me roughly to my feet. I don’t know how I stay standing, not without skates. “I’m going to be sick,” I mutter, unsure if it’s actually true. I want to look away from her. I can’t. So pale…

The hand makes me turn away. ...I can’t leave her! No. “Let go,” I protest, but my words lack conviction. Lack meaning.

I’m over by the seats now, somehow. I can’t see her anymore. The plastic seats are too hard, not comfortable. Someone says something; I can’t make it out. Something small and soft is laid over my shoulders. I stare down at the floor. My knees are dripping with sticky, thick blood. Not mine. Hers.

“Get her out of here. We have an investigation to do.” No, don’t make me leave. I don’t want to leave her here.

A gentler hand than the one before coaxes me up. I’m going to fall over if I take another step, so I don’t. Against the pressure of the hand, I sit back down.

“Get her out,” the voice repeats, like this is an emergency room and I’m trying to be at someone’s side. Isn’t that essentially what this is? But this time, there’s no shred of hope at all.

2-5

Again everyone looks at me. “She’s been at the rink almost every waking hour, you all know that. Nobody saw her the rest of the night.”

The same disapproval from Abe last night hits me again. “Didn’t you say the two of you were going to...what was it? Tell more of a story?”

“What’s he talking about?” Hamasaki asks, genuinely curious. “A story?”

“That’s got to mean something else,” Maeda says, the hint of a mocking smile playing on his face. “Like when someone says they’re late because they’re doing stuff and the other person is-”

I shake my head emphatically, a blush spreading across my face. “No! Nothing like that.” I’m sure to choose my words carefully. “After the last trial, Miyuki came to me for a distraction and-”

Yoshida nods with a smirk. “Yeah, get it, girl.”

“You guys are disgusting! We didn’t even kiss or anything!” As much as I may have wanted to. “She just wanted me to read something to her, so I started reading her Don Quijote and we were going to continue last night but she never showed up.” I cross my arms tightly across my chest, daring anyone to make any lewd comment now. “Completely innocent.”

3-1

“Back so soon?” I yelp and barely refrain from throwing a punch or kick. Monokuma blinks up at me from his reclined position on my bed. I’m going to need to change those sheets.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my teeth gritted. “Listen, I’m-”

“-a buzzkill? You’re absolutely right. Glad you agree.” He hops up, now bouncing on the mattress. “Can’t imagine being such a party pooper that I’d want to be alone all day. Not that you all keep me much company to begin with!”

3-2

“It’s weird that there’s nothing in here,” Miyuki says, leaning on a desk. “Shouldn’t there be clues?”

“I don’t know, maybe the mastermind really doesn’t want us to know who they are.” I check the teacher’s desk, finding nothing in the drawers as usual. “Absence of clues means…”

“...They’re neat. Or they’re smart. Probably both.” She pushes herself back up, coming to my side. “No secret compartments in the drawers?”

I hadn’t even thought to look. I stick my hand in one of the larger drawers, feeling around for any give. “Nothing,” I sigh, closing it once I’m done. “This is kind of hopeless, isn’t it?”

Miyuki shrugs, adjusting her glasses so they don’t fall off of her face. “Maybe not hopeless. You never know what you’re going to find later.”

“You’re right. Of course.” Spots dance into my vision again, and I brace myself against the wall before I can stagger to the ground. “Jeez. How am I supposed to help everyone if I can’t even stay on my feet?”

“Hey, you’re doing just fine, alright?” Miyuki smiles, and the spots begin to subside. “Finish working, I’ll be right here, okay?”

I trust her. “Okay.” I work a little faster this time, clearing the room now that I know what else I can look for. Still nothing. The door opens after a few minutes pass. “I thought you said you weren’t going anywhere?”

Hamasaki looks at me with obvious concern in her eyes. “What are you talking about? I’ve been in the lab.”

I look over to where Miyuki was standing just a minute ago; she’s not there anymore. Right. She was never there.

3-3

She’s really never worn perfume? I shake my head. What am I thinking? “Fujimoto would know for sure.” I turn to him, hoping to bring him out of his stupor somehow. “Fujimoto, do you-”

My eyes widen at him. It’s- it’s like he’s gasping for air. His eyes are unfocused; this is beyond an anxiety attack for sure, but is this a panic attack? I can’t tell. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one happen. “Get him to sit down,” Sasaki commands, already starting to leave her podium. Monokuma looks like he’s going to stop her before looking over at Fujimoto himself. He shuts his fanged mouth.

I try to reach out to Fujimoto, steady him or something, but he starts to jerk a little before bending over his podium and vomiting. Hard. He starts coughing, still trying to gasp for breath. I quickly grab his arm, Oshiro trying to support his other side. He doesn’t stop coughing and gasping for air, his eyes wide but still kind of unfocused.

Sasaki is at his side in an instant, only backing up a tiny bit when he doubles over in on himself and vomits again. I step back only two steps, in case I can help somehow. Until then, I’m too scared to do anything but watch, just like everyone else in the room, as he starts coughing more and more violently, starts gasping for air even more desperately like a fish out of water no matter what Sasaki tries having him do. I don’t think she has training on what to do in this situation. What even is this situation?

He falls onto his back, choking and gasping and I can’t bear to watch anymore but I can still hear it until it stops and Yasu is crying and Sasaki is trying to do CPR or something but-

“A body has been discovered!”

He’s...gone?

3-4

He looks over at me without any prompting. “It was almost you.”

...What?

“I almost killed you, but there was someone in the room with you.”

“There wasn’t-” I gasp. I was hallucinating Miyuki in there. So when Miyuki- the hallucination- said that she would stay there, she saved me. I talked to her and Ikeda thought I was talking to someone else, maybe Hamasaki or Fujimoto.

If I hadn’t hallucinated, I would be dead now.

How am I supposed to take this?

4-1

“Well, these aren’t exactly flowers.” Sasaki brushes her hands on the pants of her overalls, leaving small streaks of dirt. She points to one of the pots. “Common broom. Highly poisonous. Do not consume. Capiche?”

“Why would there be poisonous plants in a teachers’ lounge?” Aoyama asks, disbelief painted across his face. “Are you sure-”

“Try it and find out.” She picks up a pot and shoves it under his nose, startling him. This is probably the most bitter I’ve seen her. Not bad at all.

He pushes her away wordlessly, his expression soured. I didn’t think he would want to risk being wrong.

4-2

“This is better than I expected,” Aoyama laughs, throwing a smug and amused look to Sasaki. “I mean, really. Did you seriously get high in gardening club?”

She sputters, her freckles accented as her entire face burns pink. I can tell that some people (Yoshida and Oshiro) fight a smile. “That- it was an accident, I swear!”

4-3

I crack open my book again, having closed it as I was cleaning my dishes from dinner, and slouch a bit in my seat as I read. I can’t believe I’ve been in here for most of the day. Alone, too, not even a hallucination-ghost-thing in sight. While that part feels nice, it’s strange, almost eerie. I feel like I’ve already gotten used to living here…

Which, yeah, is a dangerous line of thought. Adapting to the paranoia is as good as giving up. At the same time, we’ve already lost so many people. Maybe learning to live here is-

The bells sound, shocking my system. “A body has been discovered! Everyone, please gather in the physics lab!”

-just what we need.

4-4

Anger comes off of Yoshida in waves, from the moment we step into the trial room. It reminds me of me two trials ago. She’s just next to Miyuki’s portrait across from me, so the instant she looks up, her anger is directed solely at me rather than Fujimoto’s portrait.

Monokuma takes one look at her before starting the trial. “...You all know the drill at this point. I don’t need that coming after my hide. So, ah, go ahead and begin!”

5-1

“It’s like dust. These have been ignored for a long time without water.”

“Ah, that would be my fault.” Monokuma walks out from the bushes, brushing some stray twigs off of himself. He stops in front of us. “Y’see, the sprinklers broke, and it’s not like we have a Super High-School Level Mechanic or anything here. Not like these were important to begin with. A lot of them weren’t even deadly!” He shrugs.

“And you couldn’t just come up here and water them yourself?” Aoyama asked, and for once I applaud that his snarkiness is directed to the right person. Er, bear. No, person, because mastermind. Am I thinking about that right?

“Believe you me, I have much better things to do.” Monokuma waves a paw in the air vaguely before stomping off, through a different bush. I’m pretty sure there’s no exit other than the one we came through. If he’d done that back before anyone died, I would’ve questioned it. I know better than to waste my time now.

5-2

For once, I don’t stop to wonder why he’s here. Any bit of help is appreciated, even from him. “I already did this side.” He nods and starts trying to boot one up, the first one he saw coming in the door. He presses the button, then he stops and stares at it. To my horror, he then smacks it. “What are you doing?”

“This usually works with my old PC.” He smacks it again as I gape at him. If he does much else, it’ll be breaking the rule of no destruction of school property. And there’s no way it’ll actually- “There we go!”

5-3

Abe’s eyes widen, but he says nothing. Maybe he really is trying to solve this all on his own. There’s no way that’s healthy. “What would the ultimate goal be if this were a trap? As much as it may seem otherwise, I don’t actually think any of you would conspire to kill everyone.” Aoyama’s eyes appear to double in size when he realizes what he said. “Wow. I must be tired.”

Yoshida smiles sleepily, reminding me of how Oshiro looked in the mornings when the two of them joked together in the dining hall. “Aww, I knew under those layers of being a total dick you were just a big softie.” She starts laughing, complete with snorts, before she can even finish her sentence. “Seriously, can we please wrap this up? I need to get to bed.”

6-1

“What do you think we’re going to find in there? An actual hideout for the mastermind?” It appears to me that even though Yoshida is talkative normally, she becomes more so when she’s tired. Given the silence of the halls, it’s not necessarily a bad thing right now. “Or something more sinister? Like the bones of the headmaster?”

I blanch at her, almost stumbling up the stairs. “What are you talking about?”

She thinks for a second before answering. “I dunno. It seems like the kind of thing that would be revealed right about now.”

An ominous phrase if I’ve ever heard one. I actually think I got a chill down my spine when she said it. Something like that would never happen, though. Not even here. At least, I don’t think it would. I hope it wouldn’t. “Your mind goes to strange places.”

“We’re in a strange place, it’s past midnight, and I’m tired. Why isn’t your mind going to strange places?”

...That’s a good point. “Okay, let’s try to keep as much rationality among us as we can. The headmaster’s office is closer, so we’ll go there first.” We’re already most of the way up the stairs. My stomach twists against my will, reminding me of the many horrific things that could very well be up here. “This is a good thing, right? Making good of this attempt?”

Yoshida sighs, not looking at me as it turns into a yawn. “Again. Strange place. Past midnight. Tired. Don’t care.”

6-2

So, what, that’s three out of the five of us that agree? And the way Yoshida worries her lip, I have a feeling she feels the same. “Nakamura, when’s your birthday?” she asks suddenly.

He blinks, taken more aback at that than by Aoyama agreeing with me and Abe. “February fourteenth…?”

A grim look crosses her face. “Amaya told me before, on a few occasions, actually, that you should never trust an aquarius.”

Oh my god, I remember her saying that. “But- I’m an aquarius too,” Aoyama says after a second passes.

“I know. I hate you.”

Epilogue

We say goodnight to them before they leave, but we decided to stay on the bench until my parents arrive. “Amaya would love the stars tonight,” Yoshida says eventually, her head back on my shoulder. Her face is turned so she’s almost talking into it, but it’s still very comfortable.

“She would.” I put an arm around her shoulders. For some reason, I feel as protective of Yoshida as an older sister would of her siblings. Funny, given that she’s actually older than me. Right now, though, it’s important for us to support each other. That, I can do. “I think she and Miyuki and everyone else are glad we made it.”

“That’s not some therapy bullshit, is it?”

I laugh softly, pushing Yoshida’s beanie over her eyes. “No, seriously.”

She laughs once as she adjusts her hat so she can see, then falls silent again. “We’ll be alright,” she mutters, almost sleepily. “Eventually.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Eventually.”

[pollylynn]

Title: Visage WC: 1500

This is the boy he was. He is spread out on a desk—his desk, and it does not belong to the boy—thirty years and a million miles away. His handwriting is careful, his drawing is unsteady to say the least. The face—the mask—is Charlie Brown round with lightning-bolt cracks in the porcelain. He and the boy confer. They wonder together how many women beat their fists against that smooth surface with its black cross and streaked teardrops. How many women before Rosalita Cambeau and after, in their ferocious attempts to cling to life, had left behind those lightning-bolt cracks. 

This is the boy, too. He is thirty years and a million miles away. It is dawn in New Hampshire, and his pajama pants are soaked  to the knee from running through the wet grass to the end of the long, long driveway for the newspaper. Under the narrow overhang of the side porch, in the thin grey light of February, he pores over every page. He is shaking with cold when his friend’s father stumbles over him. He went for the paper, he explains. The door locked behind him. He is sorry. 

This is the boy stealing away from New Hampshire with four days’ worth of newspapers he’s salvaged from the trash. He thinks of their pages, crowded with things that are not the woman in the woods. They are crowded with things that are not a body with blood all over its face. Blood all over her face. They are crowded with things that are not skin that was cold like ice.

This is the boy standing as still as he can while his mother rages. She has missed the quarters from her purse that he took for the pay phone. He didn’t need them. You don’t need quarters to call the police, he has learned, but he spent them anyway—all but one—on a candy bar because he was afraid all the way until the bell over the bodega door rang out and the mean woman with curlers in her hair yelled, right away, Hey you, you buy something, huh? 

This is the boy with his heart pounding on a Thursday when his friend races into math class, talking breathlessly about a body in the woods by his house. His friend’s whispers are loud enough to bounce off the fogged up classroom windows. He gets the words wrong—he calls them Canada dogs, but the boy knows better. The boy has found out. Cadaver dogs, he writes in his smallest writing on the bottom corner of a page in the middle of his notebook, then tears the words out, oh so carefully. 

This is the boy he was. Lined pages with the dismal story of Sam the coolest kid in the sixth grade, faded newspapers, thirty years on, a dull silver quarter folded in a candy bar wrapper, and two words torn from a notebook. This is the boy he was. 

***********************************

This is the man he cannot live with, the one who gave up on the woman in the woods—Rosalita Cambeau, who smiled shyly at the camera in her stone-colored raincoat, who wore a red-checked shirt on the last day of her life. This man has the blood of  Emma Malloy and Zoey Addison on his hands, the blood of every woman since then who disappeared with no one to miss her. 

This is the man who, in all these thirty years, was good for no more than here-and-there missing persons checks, for puffed-up FBI deep dives when he was famous enough—when he could be bothered to spare a thought for Rosalita Cambeau, with her half-open eyes and her ice cold skin. And he couldn’t be bothered often. He couldn’t be bothered until . . .  

And this is the man he does not know at all. This man’s mind is an alien, hostile place, ten months and a million miles away. He has no heart beating in his chest, no blood flowing through his veins, whatever he says with those pleading, soulless eyes in the moments after he breaks her heart—Just know that I love you. I’ve always loved you. Always. 

This is the man whose very existence he has cried over. He has knelt before her, raining tears into her hands and begging forgiveness. He has sobbed alone until he thought the bones of his skull would come apart. He has raged over him and brought all his imaginative powers to bear in trying to explain him out of existence with byzantine stories, because he cannot live with him. He cannot abide the thought that there is a man inside him who would open his mouth and pour out the story of Hollander’s Woods to Henry fucking Jenkins, or whoever he is. 

But this is the man who undeniably did just that. Because Henry Jenkins, with his ludicrous, forgettable face—with his hackneyed line delivery and the unrelenting urgency of a B-movie minion—knows far more than the bare bones of Hollander’s Woods. He has more than a simple password to a the boy’s secret clubhouse—he has places and dates and life-changing take-home messages. Henry fucking Jenkins knows the answer to the question his daughter—a grown woman standing before him with her barely mended heart in her hands—has to ask. When did you know? 

This is the man—the stranger—who stares out of the mirror each morning, heartless, bloodless, soulless. He is the man who ends each day with a kiss and soft words in the ear of the miracle he calls his wife now, and what right does he have, when this morning—on this day—she had to steady her voice, she had to catch her breath, she had to do the very simple Henry Jenkins math and swallow past the gall of it to ask—Why didn’t you ever tell me this before? 

*****************************

This is the man he doesn’t know yet. He is making a study of him—the man he means to be from this night forward. It is not easy. Nothing about this is easy. There’s nothing to see at first, nothing to know or to study. There is, as Dorothy Parker may or may not have said of Oakland, no there there.

He is, as he must, unmaking the man he has been. This is an ending, as well as a beginning, after all, so he sits with cuffs undone, shirt half buttoned, and another myth in the making on the flat screen behind him—Still more gruesome discoveries and many more questions . . . . That myth doesn’t concern him. He is not—he will no longer be—the man whose name rises and falls from time to time in a newscaster’s cadences, as fabricated as the man who was. 

He stares into the middle distance and does his damndest to make the acquaintance of humility. He stares at the neatly aligned spines bearing the name he gave himself and the letters dissolve into nothingness. He is not, in this moment, Richard Castle, Richard Rodgers, Richard, Rick, or Ricky. He is not the boy and he is not Sam, the coolest kid in the sixth grade. He took a man’s life today and though he would do it again—one hundred times over—rather than break her heart, he is not Castle. But he is not some irredeemable villain, either. He is, in this moment, unmade. 

He is wondering, clear eyed and with his whole heart and soul, who he can call himself, what he has earned, what—if anything—he deserves. He is making a study who he will be from this night forward, now that the tie that binds him to the secret story of his own beginnings has been so finally and absolutely snipped.  

It’s she who calls him forth, of course. She comes to him in silk and the colors of the world after spring rain, clean scrubbed and infinitely gentle. She touches a finger to the bright red blood that still beads where the knife pressed into his throat, and he knows her care, her worry, her boundless love for him.  

He is a man with his heart pounding as she takes his face in her hands and tells him who he has always been. She leads him forward from this moment and shows him who he has spent his whole life waiting to be. 

She gives him the gift of himself, an origin story that Henry Jenkins doesn’t know, that is not determined in any way by a mask with its lighting bolt cracks, shattered into a hundred pieces. She gives him the gift of a man he does not know, cannot see at all, until the truth falls from her lips, emphatic, obvious, and absolute—We’re not here because of him. We’re here because of who we are in the face of people like him.  A/N: The mask, I suppose. This has been a rough go, and a questionable resumption of this project. I think, unfortunately, my broken relationship with the show is evident in everything for the last few months, and of course, the world is hard and terrible. I am, nonetheless, very grateful for those who read and for those who showed unwavering kindness to me about this project all along  and about making it through the end. That’s 302 stories, I guess.  Hmm. 

images via homeofthenutty

[roswellwrites]

I was only going to be like an hour late posting this for Halloween but tumblr has been nothing but uncooperative with me and this is my last attempt to get this to actually show up in the tags so........fingers crossed, I guess? Anyway this is pretty filthy. 

Pairing: Michael Myers/Reader (reader is never referred to as he or she so it’s up for interpretation. I do kiiiiiind of refer to them as having a vagina though, so heads up)

Tags/Warnings: Slasher x Reader, Michael Myers x Reader, Michael Myers, Face........F*cking......tbh (god that sounds so vulgar i’m sorry yall), Rough Sex

Word Count: 2907

Author’s Note: I personally pictured Rob Zombie’s version of Michael when i was writing this just because thats who i was indescribably thirsty for at the time. Like I’m personally not a fan of the RZ Halloween movies (with the exception of Tyler Mane as Michael because jesus christ) and I’m sure there are a lot of yall that feel the same way so feel free to picture OG Michael, I wont be offended!

You were hyper aware of eyes on you the entire night, the eeriness of Michael’s white mask as he hovered just at the edge of your peripheral, so stiff and unmoving you had mistaken him as a feature of the treeline more than once. He had watched for hours as you gave out sweets to trick-or-treaters, unwavering, his intense gaze following you as you rose finally from your seat on the top step, entering your home and flicking the porch light off to indicate that you were no longer giving out candy.

You had taken your time putting on your costume, catching the pale visage of his mask reflected in your mirror more than once through the window over your shoulder. You righted the fabric of your ensemble, giving yourself a last once-over in the mirror before slipping your shoes onto your feet and heading for the door.

The party you were attending was some twenty minutes away at the edge of town, and as you stepped off your front porch and into the chill of the October night air, you noticed suspiciously that Michael was nowhere in sight. You hummed, unbothered as you got into your car and buckled your seatbelt, sliding the key into the ignition with a click. The car roared to life around you and for a moment you sat there, fingers drumming idly on the steering wheel as you allowed the vehicle to warm up for the drive. You fiddled with the dial on your radio, selecting your usual station and then turning in your seat, checking behind the vehicle for any stray trick-or-treaters before backing out of your driveway and onto the street.

Your eyes flickered to the rear view mirror then to see that a car had pulled away from the curb, following you closely now as you made your way down the street. You found yourself grinning, pleased at the development.

The party was a blur around you, loud and busy with the laughter of people having a good time, their bodies dancing and swaying in time with the music. You had been approached a few times since arriving, the compliments and lingering stares not entirely unwelcome as you leaned back against a wall, solo cup full of alcohol in hand.

The old Myers house was a ten minute walk from the location of the party, something you had taken into account when agreeing to attend, and you found yourself now in the brisk fall air as you made your way down the darkened street, the noisy clicking of your shoes on the sidewalk loud enough to have you bending and pulling them from your feet, opting to continue the trek barefoot rather than listen to the sound.

The porch steps creaked under your weight as you climbed them, the front door opening with some resistance as you pressed your palm to the old wood and shoved against it. You moved slowly up the stairs, cautious of the old wood as it groaned beneath you, your hand finding the splintered banister and squeezing it gently as you made your way upwards.

There was the shifting of floorboards behind you and you allowed your lips to curl into a smile, body thrumming now with excitement.

You screamed when he grabbed you, the shock of his hands suddenly on you overpowering the logical part of your brain that knew he had been behind you the entire time. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears, the muscle itself hammering behind your rib cage as if it intended to break through the bone and escape through your chest wall.

His hands were strong on your upper arms as he pinned them to your sides, the dark flashing of his eyes just visible behind his mask as he shoved you easily to your knees.

You could feel his heavy gaze on the back of your neck, tangible almost, barely resisting the urge to glance over your shoulder at the massive man as he loomed over you.

He remained there for a time, seconds ticking by like minutes and minutes ticking by like hours before he finally moved, circling around to your front. Michael reached for you, rough fingers finding the side of your face tracing the smooth skin he found there, making their way first to your jawline and then higher, his thumb brushing your lower lip softly.

There was the tang of something on your tongue as he pressed his thumb into your mouth, metallic and sharp, and you felt your stomach churn in protest. You wondered when he had even had the opportunity to get bloody, who the unlucky victim had been, what they had done to provoke his anger or if they had even done anything at all.

Michael’s thumb withdrew slightly, the pad of his finger pressing now to your bottom teeth, more gentle than you were accustomed to. You dropped your mouth open obediently, cheeks flushing as he took a lumbering step forward and tilted your face upwards to look up at him, your eyes finding the placidity of his white mask even in the gloom of the old house. The faded hardwood floor was unforgiving under your knees and you shifted minutely in discomfort, adjusting your position.

He lowered a single heavily scarred hand to rest on top of your head then, large fingers carding gently through the hair he found there in a rare display of tenderness. You permitted your eyes to droop shut under the action, your lips parting and allowing for a small sigh to escape as he began to scratch slow circles into your scalp with blunt fingernails.

You tensed when he clenched his fist suddenly, body going rigid under his ministrations as he took a handful of your hair in his hand and pulled hard enough to have tears pricking the corner of your eyes. You moved obligingly as he tugged you upwards, maneuvering you easily from your position sitting back on your calves so that your back was straight, posture the picture of attentiveness.

Michael pulled his thumb from your mouth slowly, the hot drag of the digit across your tongue enough to have you opening your mouth wider for him, submissive, body flushed now all the way to the tips of your ears.

His free hand came up to the zipper of his coveralls then, the sound of the interlocking teeth being undone just loud enough to be audible over the rush of blood in your own ears. The shirt he wore beneath his coveralls was black, stretched taut over his broad chest, and you longed to reach up, to trace the thin material with your fingers, to feel the hard plain of muscle under your palm. He worked the zipper down slowly, hand moving now beneath the rough material to encircle the base of his hardening member and pull it free of his coveralls.

You could feel your heart skip a beat at the size of him, same as it always did, your tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip in anticipation as he began to stroke himself to full hardness. Your mouth was still open, wide and wet and welcoming, and Michael adjusted his grip on your hair, angling your head now to allow for the easy press of his cock between your lips.

The weight of his length was heavy on your tongue, satisfying and exactly what you needed. You allowed your eyes to slide closed, shoulders sagging as you exhaled softly through your nose, the slightly salty taste of him on your tongue enough to have you swallowing reflexively.

The first sharp thrust as he worked his way fully into your mouth was a surprise to say the least, catching you off guard as his cock slid nearly to the back of your throat. Your eyes flew wide, darting up questioningly to his masked face as he withdrew, leaving only the tip of his cock on your tongue before thrusting forward again,

Michael twisted his scarred hand in your hair sharply, coercing your head to the side and grinding forward into your mouth, forcing your nose nearly to the sparse, dark hair at the base of his erection.

The pace he set was quick, brutal, the blunt tip of his cock meeting the back of your throat with every forceful thrust. He manipulated you easily by the hand in your hair, angling your head upwards so your glassy eyes found his expressionless mask, the action opening your throat further to him as he used your mouth in the way he saw fit.

Your hands came to his muscular thighs, fingers scrabbling for purchase against the dark blue fabric as he fucked your mouth with deep, relentless strokes. You could feel the tears as they welled at the corners of your eyes now, the obscene trail of slick on your chin as your saliva mixed with his pre-cum and leaked from your mouth. You closed your eyes against the onslaught, dark eyelashes fanning across your flushed cheeks as you forced your throat to relax, shifting again on your knees as he gave your hair another sharp tug.

You groaned around his length, fuzzy from lack of oxygen, grounded only in the moment by the relentless snapping of Michael’s hips as he filled your mouth, gripping your hair so tightly you knew you would be feeling it for hours.

His hips jolted forward one last time, head lolling slightly to one side, the only warning you received before his hand tightened impossibly in your hair and he forced your lips to the base of his cock, holding you there as he came down your throat.

You choked, sputtering, hands twisting into the fabric of his coveralls as you tried to move away. You could feel more tears slipping down your cheeks as he observed you, dark eyes seeming to search your face for something before withdrawing from your mouth completely. You exhaled shakily through your nose, swallowing as his hand moved finally from your hair, trailing downwards until it found your chin, catching it easily between his fingers. His thumb found your bottom lip for the second time that night, dragging the rough digit across the flushed skin before sliding slightly lower, sweeping through the messy layer of saliva he found there.

You wondered what you looked like, wondered if your cheeks were as hot as they felt, if your lips were swollen from the rough treatment. You reached up self consciously, brushing aside his gentle fingers and wiping the drool from your chin with your sleeve as you allowed him to press you back against the floor with large hands at to your shoulders.

It was never just one round with Michael.

He lowered himself to his knees in front of you then, slotting with some difficulty between your spread thighs, and for a moment you were floored at the vulnerability the gesture exuded. Michael was huge even on his knees, a behemoth of a man, muscles wound tight like a predator ready to leap.

Your eyes trailed his body hungrily, darting from his broad shoulders to his chest and stomach, taking note of the way his shirt had begun to ride up, revealing a tantalizing sliver of pale, scarred skin. Your eyes found his length as it began to harden again, sitting heavily against his still-clothed thigh, flushed from base to tip and still damp from where it had been in your mouth.

One of Michael’s hands moved from your shoulder to your upper chest, spanning nearly the length of your entire clavicle as he pinned your body easily to the floor beneath him. He pressed down on your rib cage suddenly, harsh and with so much force that you gave an involuntary wheeze of distress, hand flying immediately to his wrist in hopes of relieving some of the pressure.

“Michael,” you gasped, squirming ineffectively under him as he continued to exert his near supernatural pressure, entirely unaffected by your pleading tone and twisting body beneath him.

When he released you suddenly, you arched from the floor, lungs sucking in a much needed breath.

Michael’s practiced hands made quick work of your shorts and underwear then, taking the time to unbutton and slide the fabric down your hips and thighs, and you found yourself grateful that he had opted to remove them calmly rather than simply tearing or shredding them. He moved one large finger to your entrance, dipping leisurely inside of you to the knuckle, and you could feel your legs shaking on either side of him as Michael began to investigate the slickness he found there. One finger became two, and two fingers became three, the delicious stretch of his large digits as they flexed inside of you nearly enough to have your eyes rolling skyward in pleasure.

But it wasn’t enough.

You dropped your head back as he withdrew his fingers, skull thudding softly against the old hardwood as he lined himself up, positioning himself at your leaking entrance. You breathed slowly through your nose, mentally preparing yourself for what was to come.

Your eyes flew wide as Michael entered you then, thrusting forward suddenly with a single, impatient snap of his hips. Your muscles clenched involuntarily at the intrusion, so sudden and unexpected and large that you found your hands reaching up, grasping desperately at the lapels of his coveralls. Your throat was sore from the rough treatment it had received earlier but you opened your mouth anyway, hoping to still him with your words.

“Fuck, Michael,” you rasped, your voice sounding absolutely wrecked even to your own ears. “Just…just hold on a second. Please.”

He was impassive as he stared down at you, expression impossible to read behind his mask. Michael gave a slow tilt of his head then, as if deciding something before he withdrew, pulling himself almost completely out of you before allowing his hips to snap forward again,

You grit your teeth, back arching wildly off the cold floor as your body tried and failed again to adjust to his size. “Michael,” you pleaded again, your tone edging now on a whine as he repeated the motion, filling you again with another sharp thrust.

Michael’s large hands were steel at your hips, thumbs pressing meanly into the flesh he found there, and you found yourself squirming beneath him in discomfort.

You had learned early on that Michael liked to leave marks, littering your skin on a regular basis with bruises and bites. He would never say so, of course, but more often than not, you’d catch him returning to the marks, lavishing them with attention with either his mouth or hands, reverent almost.

His pace was fast and bruising, reminiscent of the way he had fucked your mouth earlier as he chased his own release.

You were aware of his eyes as they flickered across your face from behind his mask, gaze sharp and assessing as they took in your flushed cheeks and gently parted lips, your bright eyes undoubtedly glazed in your pleasure.

Your hand slipped between your bodies to touch yourself in response, only to give a startled sound high in your throat as one giant hand caught your wrist and slammed your arm back against the floor by your head.

“Okay,” you said breathlessly, giving a sharp jerk of your head to indicate that you understood. “Okay.”

His hand remained there for a moment before he released you, as if coming to the conclusion that you weren’t going to try it again. Michael’s hand returned to your hip then, squeezing fiercely.

Your body was lax under his as he pounded into you, pliant as he worked you against him, using his powerful hands on your hips as leverage. The pain had faded out entirely by now, replaced by searing pleasure as he filled you again and again with his cock, the stretch of him nearly overwhelming as he penetrated you.

You could feel the exact moment his rhythm faltered, hips stuttering forward

“Come on,” you gasped, panting now from the force of his thrusts and he dragged you against him harshly. “Please, Michael, please.”

Michael twitched within you, lifting one hand quickly from your hip to cover your mouth, forcing you into silence as he continued to fuck you with powerful thrusts.

You whined in response, the sound muffled by his palm as you lifted your hips from the floor, giving him a better angle to work himself deeper into you.

Michael gave a few more erratic thrusts before tensing as he came, spilling himself inside of you, his grip on your hip so tight now you felt it might snap under the incredible pressure.

You made a small sound as he pulled out and moved away, taking a moment to simply lie there before straining your neck upwards to look at him, eyes lingering unabashed as he tucked himself back into his coveralls.

You could feel his cum leaking from your abused entrance as you rolled finally to your knees, slick sliding obscenely down your still-shaking thighs and dripping onto the floor beneath you. You gave a soft groan as you lifted yourself onto unsteady feet, bending slightly to retrieve your shorts before righting yourself again, your lower back giving a painful throb in protest at the action. You turned to him now, clothing clenched tightly in one hand.

“Let’s go home, Michael.”

[outroshooky]

Swim In Your Divine

⇢ genre: drabble (hogwarts!au, slytherinjimin!au, gryffindorreader!au) (fluff)

⇢ pairing: park jimin x reader

⇢ word count: 1.7k

⇢ warnings: this is tooth-rottingly fluffy with a touch of angst; there’s brief swearing

⇢  a/n: i’ve wanted to write slytherin jimin for months now, but inspiration is a fickle bitch. i stared at my laptop for maybe an hour tonight, and all of a sudden  words came pouring out. to anyone right now who is on the verge of something unknown, who is doubting themselves and their abilities and feeling as though the world may very well come crashing down at any moment- this is for you. i hope, from my heart to yours, that it brings you comfort, even if only just for a moment.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Breath soft on your temple, steady in its beat, paced.

It’s dark in the round room, a single window allowing a block of moonlight to cut across stone tile, fractured in its age. It’s a cloudless night and the sister planet sings her silvery praises across the mountains that arch over the foundations of the castle, keeping her snug and warm in their embrace. Lately, however, it is as if they do not cradle but cage, for better or worse, from the outside world.

For war, war is coming.

It beats in the very thrum of your blood, in the keenness of your senses.

Something is about to happen.

Something that has the potential to be catastrophic, to tip the hourglass that has so carefully held the sands of destiny, slipping by grain by grain into place, exactly where they’re meant to be. The glass walls were shattered on the night that the wizarding world was changed forever, tilted on its axis by the boy with fate incarnate cut in a bolt scar across the breadth of his forehead. They were put back together with the passage of time, tension draining out of the world’s own shoulders as she too adjusted to change.

Change. A force that, on its own, has the power to shift tides. She waxes and wanes, pushes and pulls with her own mind, and it can feel as though we are completely alone, forced to rock back and forth at the mercy of an unseen higher power. We grab at the walls of our measly little dinghy and we are reminded of our place in the universe. How, in the grand scheme of time and the flow of the cosmos, the predicament that occupies our waking hours and haunts the landscape of our dreams is merely a ripple in the flood. A stone may skip across the water, even fall face-first and sink to the bottom, but with a second or two, the undulations slow, taking pause until the next rock finds itself skimmed along the great river. It is like this that we are borne along the current of life, sometimes in control of the pace, sometimes clutching for the sides of the boat with every ounce of power in us.

Your head rises and falls with the rhythm of his breathing, your ear resting comfortably above the constant, never failing drumbeat that is the pattern of life. One of his hands is loosely interlocked with yours, the other occupied with gentle caresses of your hip, your side- touches he needs not open his eyes for, because he knows your curves and your edges as well as he knows the flecked wood of his own wand.

Sometimes, our boat is spun in circles on the great tides. The water rushes and roars in our ears and below our pathetic little craft, threatening to spit and choke and overwhelm the sides. Like leaves we are caught in the eddies, but like leaves, we slip over the top of one current, spill into another, and then we are borne along our way just as if nothing had ever happened in the first place. It’s okay to go in circles, even if you need to rest for a while. It will not consume you forever.

Your frame is warm against his, the only blanket he needs. He’s in casual wear, the low cut of his shirt exposing honey-gold skin, and it’s here that you bury your face, nose the column of his neck. You could connect constellations with the freckles that dot his chest, run your knuckle along his throat to marvel at the radiance of him in simplistic, unadulterated adoration. He is beautiful, so beautiful that it hurts to think, to move, to breathe, to do anything other than savor this moment with him, the moonlight kissing the toes of your socked feet. You nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder, breathe deep the delicate notes of his body wash, but even with a faintly musky distraction, your mind still wanders. It lingers near the entrance to a shadowed labyrinth, trees of shade spearing a sickening inky-black twilight, and it is as if he can feel your internal trepidation through the way you shift against him. He hums, gritty and thick with sleep. “What time is it?”

“Late,” you murmur, fingers sliding up his wrist to trace his forearm. “If we’re caught up here, Snape will string me up on his dungeon wall, right next to the newts we’re supposed to be skinning on Tuesday.”

Jimin chuckles softly, brushing your forehead with lips as delicate as falling petals. “Well, you’re lucky that you’re up here with me. He likes me too much to actually bother with giving me detention.”

“Speak for yourself, mister Slytherin prefect.” You curl into Jimin, legs slung across his thigh. “He’s just itching to give any other prefect, much less a Gryffindor, an ass-whooping.”

His arms tighten around you. “Ah, but you have McGonagall on your side. I still don’t think she’s forgiven me for failing her final last year.”

“She’s forgiven you, love. I don’t think you’ve forgiven yourself,” you tease, tapping his nose with one digit. 

Jimin whines lowly and buries his face in the top of your head; the butterfly’s wings in your heart unfold to beat with a renewed passion. However, with a glance out the intricately carved windowsill at the hills and valleys, lingering with promises of threats to come, the beautiful creations crumple.

“Jimin…”

The glow of night frames your face, a visage more stunning to him than any charm or hex. His entire life he’s been enchanted by the mystery of magic, the secret beauty it holds in the palm of his hand. Yet, for all of his passion towards the craft he aims to perfect, it pales in comparison to the candle wick that burns bright with his affections towards you. You, a star set so deeply into the wonderful framework of the universe that he fears a world in which he ever has to live without the unfailing steadiness of you. Jimin knows exactly what thoughts coil around themselves in your brain like a pile of seething snakes, his emotional intuition that nearly had him sorted into Hufflepuff reading you like an open book.

He cradles the back of your neck with one hand; the butterfly curls into its protector. “I know.”

“You can feel it too?”

He nods slowly, then all at once. “Something is different with the world out there. The mountains don’t smile like they used to. They hunch, like they’re hunkering down.”

“But for what?” Your question rings into the open air, an owl winging its way into the night-time. “What if we have war again, Jimin?”

“War?” He raises an eyebrow.

“That’s what happened the last time the world shifted like this. I don’t know-” You cradle yourself in his arms, rubbing furiously. “I don’t know, but god, I’m fucking terrified.”

He pauses one beat, two. “It’s okay to be terrified.” His hands rub over yours, doing a better job to warm you up than you ever could. “I’m terrified too.” Jimin’s confession, as quiet as it is in the dead of the Astronomy Tower, rings as loud as the clapper of a tower bell in the small room. “But if it is war again, then we’ll be prepared for it. We have to be, and we will be.”

“But how?” You beg, turning to face him. “How, when nothing is certain and everything is thrumming with this hint of danger and fuck, I just-” You ramble on.

Jimin presses a single finger to your lips, hand sliding to cup your jaw. His eyes meet yours, onyx embers glowing bright with feeling. “You beautiful, silly girl.”

You draw back. “What?”

“My dear, you are the most capable person that I have ever met. You are courageous and determined and god forbid anything stand in your way, because you will crush those who speak out against you to dust. You have a soul that sings a song of fire, but that doesn’t mean you are consumed by it.” His thumb traces the apple of your cheek. “You are wonderful in your own way; you’re so genuinely good and I truly have no idea how I ended up in your boat as first-years on the way to the castle for the first time, but I am so glad that I did. It was the best choice I have ever made.” He emphasizes these things with a tenderness known to you, you alone, and with that the winged thing in your chest breaks free, the shackles on her wings shed in a flurry of movement.

“In a thousand universes, I will find you,” Jimin promises, the rawness of his words building brick after brick of reassurance. “In ten thousand stories, I will trip and fall into your timeline and stay by your side before I’m undoubtedly killed off in some majestic, knightly way. Change, war, whatever you want to call it- it will not tear you apart even if it tears us apart. The world does not deserve a soul like yours, breadcrumb, and she will be reluctant to let you slip the bonds of earth. She knows you’re a fighter; she sees that in you-” he wipes a tear from your cheek, spilling wet and hot. “-and she will not give up on you, even if you give up on yourself.”

“Jimin,” you choke, hands cupping his face. You say his name once, twice, over and over till it fades to a whisper on your lips. He’s crying too, you think, with the sheer honesty of it all; the threads of change are woven indeterminably, unchangingly, and there is nothing you can do to unravel the ethereal blanket. 

Change, war, whatever you want to call it, is coming.

But things will be okay.

You pull him closer, arms linked around the back of his neck, and he pulls you onto his lap, a girl with a soul that sings of fire and a heart that burns with the warmth of coals. 

Inhale.

Exhale.

A barn owl, perched atop the roof of the tower, hoots a low cry, and it echoes through the dark, ringing atop hill and treetop to settle on Hogwarts’ Great Lake, where a single leaf swirls atop a slow-moving current, the stem rippling the surface of the water.

[thebiasrekkers]

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Mafia!AU | Crime!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff | Smut

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence (bloody violence), Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,089

Tag List: @prisczero​, @pinkpjmin​, @btsaudge​, @flowerwrites06​, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali​, @shrimpmsg​​,

Chapter 43: Lost

“To lose your path is the way to find that path.”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Four Years Ago Seoul – Itaewon; Yongsan District South Korea

Blood.

There was blood in the water.

Jimin looked like he crawled out of a mountain of pig guts, blood smears littering his face and neck. Droplets of crimson dripped from his earlobe as an angry red trail wept from a cut under his eye. Another slash decorated the bridge of his nose and he reached up to wipe at it. His fingers and hand were completely coated in red – scarlet trails dripping down his forearm and staining his shirt.

A shaky hand moved to turn the faucet off; barely aware that the water was spilling from the sink and onto the floor. It sloshed over his sneakers, soaking his shoelaces and creeping into his socks. He barely noticed as he slowly dipped his hands into the overflowing bowl of porcelain. The water turned an even deeper shade of pink and orange, growing opaque to where Jimin could no longer see his hands inside the bowl.

Water continued to slip onto the floor as he moved his wrists methodically, cleaning his hands as best he could. His eyes lingered on the dirty faucet nozzle until they shifted to spy his rosary bracelet on the edge of the dingy porcelain mouth. The silver cross glinted under the artificial light that barely encompassed the room, reflecting the pale green tiling that covered the room from ceiling to floor.

The light in the room blinked rapidly, spazzing out in time with the flash of lightning that brightened the dark and stormy world outside of the bathroom. Every so often, he was plunged in darkness – depriving him of the image of his horrible visage reflecting back at him in the mirror.

But even in the dark, Jimin could see everything.

He could see the body hunched over by the urinals, his neck spurting out blood like a fountain. His arm was twisted back, dislocated until it was eventually snapped in an unnatural way. Blood turned the man’s once white shirt completely red as thick rivers of it pooled from his lips.

An arm peeked out from underneath one of the stalls, the fingers attached to the hand all broken. There was a knife sticking out from the back of the hand as blood blossomed across the tile floor. Near the arm and between the person by the urinals was another body lying face down with one of his arms pulled behind him. There was a white item protruding from one of the shoulders, tearing through the jacket, and upon closer inspection, one would know that it was a broken bone pierced through skin and fabric.

Removing his hands from the pale red water and scooping up his rosary, Jimin shook the moisture from his hands and pivoted on his heels as he slowly wiped his palms down the backs of his pants. Another flash of lightning brightened the room, the clap of thunder rumbling the building and causing bits of plaster to crumble from the ceiling. Jimin crouched down to remove his knife from the man’s neck, more blood spurting out until the fountain grew smaller. Jimin wiped the blade over the man’s clothes to clean it off.

Flicking the blade closed, he slid it into the inside pocket of his blazer. Stepping over the man on the floor, he fished in his pocket for his handkerchief and began to wipe at the blood that was still on his neck while looking over his handiwork. It could have been handled a little less recklessly, but Jimin was forced into a small space and dealing with a trio of idiots who believed they had even a snowball’s chance in being able to go toe-to-toe with him.

Their biggest mistake? Listening to a jealous master who wanted Hoseok dead.

A phone buzzed with life and he paused, silencing his own breath so he could hear where the noise was coming from. He entered the stall and removed the phone from the man’s pocket whose neck he’d broken, spying at the screen. Jimin gently pushed the man off the toilet, dropping the phone into the bowl without hesitation. He watched it continue to ring until the water seeped into the grooves and openings of the device, causing the screen to blink wildly before it finally faded to black.

Pulling his own phone out, he dialed a number and pressed the phone to his face; making sure that it was the cheek he’d just cleaned off. They answered in three rings.

“It’s me,” he said softly, stepping over the bodies as he made for the door, “it’s done.”

The other person spoke and this caused Jimin to smirk.

“Just bring the cleaners here, Hyung. They’ll take care of the rest.”

He opened the door, scooping up his rosary beads off the sink and slipping them into his pocket.

“This will make them think twice before trying to come after you again.”

Jimin shut the door behind him as he hung up the phone, straightening his jacket and slicking his hair back off his forehead. The old building was barely anything to look at, which made the entire situation ideal for this sort of thing. His small group that waited for him bowed to him and he tossed the knife and dirty handkerchief to one of them.

“Get rid of those,” Jimin said, his voice cold.

The young man nodded, wrapping the items and then tossing them into a nondescript plastic bag.

“The talk didn’t go well?” he asked and Jimin grinned.

“It went as I thought it would.”

The man nodded, the others following on either side of him.

“They should have just listened to you in the first place. Then they wouldn’t have gone out that way.” Jimin cast a sideways glance toward the young man. “Because you’re The Crimson Claw, right?”

“Wrong.”

The man peered up at him, his expression clearly showcasing his confusion.

“I had no intentions of talking whatsoever. Because I am The Crimson Claw.”

Present Day Seoul – Cheongdam; Gangnam District South Korea

Jimin took a deep breath, his hands balled into fists at his thighs. His thumb slowly rotated over the rosary beads, completely in sync with his heartbeat. He mentally counted back from thirty. Thirty seconds; thirty beats of his heart. The world was silent in the small enclosure as tiny slivers of light broke through the small holes around the wooden box. The burgundy curtain of velvet brushed against his knuckles, providing a small sense of relief from the suffocation that threatened to overtake him.

The latch across from him loosened as the door opened. Light flooded in from the other side of the diamond grating separating him from the man who was adjusting himself in his seat. When the door closed, they were once again plunged into darkness. Jimin released the air trapped in his lungs, the hand holding the rosary moving to form the sign of the cross in front of him before clasping his fingers together in a sign of prayer.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was three years and six months ago.”

There was a pregnant pause, threatening to swallow Jimin up completely. He took another breath, the sweat tingeing his brows as his chestnut fringe clung to his forehead. Jimin felt the priest’s eyes watching him through the grating and he attempted to swallow the lump in his throat. A part of him felt like he was being judged, but wasn’t that expected? It should have been. If it wasn’t, then Jimin judged himself in the stead of his Savior.

“Go on, My Child,” urged the priest gently.

He tried to wet his lips as he floundered for the words. Jimin cleared his throat as he attempted to formulate his sentences, his hands trembling. He shut his eyes tightly, his mouth forming into a thin line. He knew the priest was waiting for him to continue, but inwardly he wanted nothing more than to run from that small enclosure.

It felt like the weight of his sins would crush him.

“I’m a Christian, Father, but we believe in The Almighty and his Grace. Prayer alone cannot save me, but I feel that simply writing things down in a journal could hardly be enough to absolve me of my sins.” The words were less heavy on his tongue and he pressed his back against the wall. “The Blood of Christ has granted me penance. I know this. But I am afraid, Father, of the wrongs I have done in order to secure the futures of my brothers and myself.”

When he opened his eyes again, they quickly adjusted to the darkness; he was used to this. It was the sunlight that hurt his eyes and made it difficult to see.

Old memories flooded his mind, reminding him of the past and of the blood he shed. The metallic taste and coppery odor seemed permanently stuffed in his nostrils back then. His hand was often forced during encounters when he donned the mask of the Golden Jackals’ liaison. It was his job to speak to others in various districts, warning them that despite being a new group and former Jade Fang members, they were not to be trifled with.

They would do things fairly and if that fairness was ever challenged, then it was Jimin’s job to pass the message along in other ways. He was given the name Crimson Claw because he had no issues cutting anyone down that dared to impede his brothers’ paths to success and good fortune. He was merciless when it came to anyone he cared for.

This same mercilessness existed quietly in his heart even when they all lived their simple, country lives in Hwaseong. It was the reason why Jimin was the last to arrive in Seoul after Namjoon made his offer to come back with him to the big city – to reach into the dark and dirty underworld and pull out a flawless diamond. Jimin’s life was his family’s bakery and it was always assumed he would take over. He could never admit to how easy it was for him to embrace the life that Namjoon and the others were suggesting they attempt to live.

Because he didn’t want to show how simple it was for him to smile in that chaotic world. He didn’t want to worry his brothers, or even scare them away. He was more afraid of losing them than he was of losing himself.

Jimin understood the true depth of his heart better than anyone. Because he was a sinner; he bathed in the sin and wore it like a badge of pride. He had no problem hurting anyone if it meant protecting the people who meant the most to him.

He would become the devil himself.

What worried Jimin now wasn’t the storm that was coming. What concerned him was the possibility of losing himself along the way.

“I have hurt people. I have ruined people. We all have. But I cannot confess their sins for them. I can only speak of my own.” He squeezed his fingers tightly together, the beads of the rosary scraping against each other. “I know I cannot bear their sins on my shoulders, but I desperately want to, Father. My brothers are good people; good men. They deserve all the wonderful things this life has to offer to them.”

“You are very kind-hearted, My Child,” spoke the priest, causing Jimin to look up at him, “and God sees that. He knows what lies in your heart every waking moment of your life.”

“If that’s true, Father,” Jimin whispered, “then he knows I’m beyond saving. I’m okay with that, I am.”

“You’re alright with being outside of the realm of redemption?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I’ve found my place in the shadows and I will do everything, anything I can, to keep my brothers in the light.”

Jimin peered down at his hands to look at the sterling silver cross dangling from the rosary beads.

“Forever.”

[blackfiire-archive-blog]

[ This is Gotham's channel 3 News reporting...]

                       [...bizarre phenomena that has conspiracy theorists and scientists wondering...]

                                                  [...two females flying over Gotahm...]

[... locked in combat...destroying half of Gotham City in the process.]

                                        [...which begs the question: could the bible have been fact?]

[The end of days?]

                                                  [The military has yet to comment.]

The midnight air blows inky black tresses around wildly, hovering over a building with two charged lilac orbs ready to fire at the female's command. The silhouette of a red haired female stands atop of an abandon skyscraper, bruised, beaten, gasping for air, and barely holding her own. Her oppressor hovers a couple inches closer as a dark, haunting cackle bypasses scarlet lips. Blackfire keeps her distance as she waits for her sister---her rival---to muster up the strength to continue their destructive battle.

Starfire hangs onto a damaged pillar, her green eyes gazing down at the mayhem below. From up top it was eerily silent. Naught but the whine of the wind passing through crimson locks. Sniffling back a sob, the young teen manages a step only to come tumbling down on all fours before the elder. She was weak, afraid. All she wanted was relief and rest. Yet her sister had her cornered,

With a shaky hand, Starfire gathers what little strength she could find and thrusts a lime green starbolt to create wider distance between the two. However, her efforts were proved useless as Blackfire backfires just milliseconds after. Starfire endures the blast and is sent hurdling backwards through a wall, "S-sister..." Her voice was horse, barely holding her breath as the blast to her chest completely took the air out of her lungs. She reaches out a hand. As if somewhere deep down in her sibling's heart, Blackfire would see the error of her ways, and cease conflict at once.

Blackfire descends from the sky, eyes aglow with playful fury. The forlorn look on Starfire's face sent chills through the elder's spine, scoffing at the pitiful image she sees in front of her, "Pathetic," Blackfire takes soft, slow steps forward. The sheer look of fear overcomes Starfire's usual elated visage, "And to think they all preferred this over me?" She swipes for the redhead's collar of her shirt, yanking her close enough for the tips of their noses to brush. And in that instant, a loud clap can be heard, the sound of Starfire's pained scream echoes over Gotham's unforgiving skies.

"Ah!"

"Weak! And yet they wanted you to ascend, and not me? What a JOKE." The back of her hand meets with the side of young tamaranean's face as Blackfire takes a knee just to scoop up Starfire again by the front of her shirt. Her sinister gaze loomed over her. Starfire's eyes only welled up with tears. She didn't mind enduring Blackfire's physical onslaught, but the look in her eyes---pure, unbridled hatred without a single ounce of remorse for her actions.

"...I did not ask to ascend," Starfire replies, sobs in between, "...I only did...what was asked of me." Struggling within her sister's grip, she finds herself thrown hence again into a nearby wall. Dust and debris cloud her vision, but taking that time she had out of Blackfire's clutches to stumble to a stand, "Sister... I implore you: cease this madness! Return to tamaran with me. ...I understand you went through many hardships when tamaran was young. I do. I really do. But..." She hobbles for a place to keep herself upright, blood and bruises caked her body from head to heel, "...Can you not let those things remain were they were? In the past... You cannot let them own you forever!"

A laugh circles around the young female. Slowly, but surely, growing louder. Louder, and more chaotic. Through the fog of the smoke, a fist greets the teen only this time, she was prepared. Apricot colored hands latch onto the wrists that intended harm, keeping them at a stagger halt whilst skidding backward from Blackfire's mighty force. Violet eyes illuminated. From what was once playful, was now savage ferocity.

"You "UNDERSTAND"?" An audible growl leaves her, pushing further into Starfire, yet somehow completely stalled by her sister's grip, "Ergh! You know nothing about what I endured---what I went through in that gods damned planet! What I had to do to survive! The senseless beatings, the sex ring, the mobbing---Yet you think I would even fathom a single thought about rebuilding that shit hole? Don't make me laugh.

I may have wanted that once upon a time, but that vision has long since died. Don't you see, sister? I don't want to rebuild life. I want to destroy it! That is life's entire mystery unveiled! And I intend to see it through. The lights across the sea of stars will go out...one...by one! I'll destroy everything! I will save it!! All existence will be denied. To build is to destroy. All life MUST be destroyed. Aha...HAHAHAHAHA."

Green eyes grow wide with fear, concern, ...disgust. It only occurred to her now. The ramblings of their childhood. Blackfire's plans. Her journals. Her pictures. Her visions, thoughts, dreams---everything that was growing inside of her for years, brewing and forming in the deepest, darkest pits of her broken mind.

                                               She was completely and utterly insane.

"No... sister no! That can't... You cant---! I’m sorry Kom! I’m truly sorry!"

"Silence. SILENCE! First. I must get rid of you, my dear, sweet sister.~ Prepare for a world of hurt. Although, even then you will still not understand my woes. You should be honored to endure a mercy killing from me anyhow. I may be a bitch, but I’m not a monster. And certainly not to my little sister," A wicked smirk creases on ruby lips. Her hand slowly raised. A purple glowing orb manifesting around her fist, "Goodbye Starfire. O'ja vlor'en."                       [ I've always hated you.]

Struck with fear, she couldn't move. She was completely frozen. Starfire wanted to scream, to move. Anything! Yet, her body forbade it. Maybe even welcomed it considering her circumstance.

Closing her eyes, she prepares for the final blow. Eyes squeezed as tightly she could possibly do while moving her head in the other direction. The soft hum of the darkbolt escalates. The sound of metal screaming against each other. Starfire remains locked in hesitation, anticipating the flesh searing heat of point blank energy colliding into her gut.... for what seemed like ages?

Her thoughts continued racing. Was Blackfire just taking her sweet time? Ensuring Starfire had the fear of God stuck into her? No. No, something wasn't right.

Reluctantly, green eyes flutter open. She takes in the scene of the breathtaking night sky and slowly turns her head towards her sister.

Blackfire's eyes are wide with shock. Her darkbolts dismissed. The purest form of paralyzing awe on her face. Violet eyes are cast downward as a sickening gasp for air emits from the tamaranean's lips. A harpoon-like metal contraption was impaled through her back and protruding from her abdomen from a military chopper in the distance. Still, it didn't seem to deter her. Instead, she takes a weakened step closer. Slow. Limp. She tries to land a punch on the younger's face, only her arm had been impaled, then the other, pulling her backward which then brought the alien stumbling back. Her vision going hazy. Droplets of blood sprinkle the surface under her feet with the source of it being her mouth.

Groaning, Blackfire made a relentless attempt to swipe for her sister, losing her footing over the ledge of the building which sent her careening for the ground below, hand outstretched for her sibling above.

And though Starfire had been beaten to shreds, and though she knew of her sister's hatred, she drags herself towards the edge of the broken building, hand also stretched for the maniacal woman who wanted her dead.

"No! KOM! Kom! Komand'r!" She sobs, too weak to bring herself to actually go out and rescue her sister from a great fall.

As the alien plummets the ground below, her vision blurs. Gotham's rain poured and showed mercy to one who did not deserve it. The ringing in her ears overlapped what muffled words could be heard. The blur slowly growing darker, and darker. And then. Everything was swallowed in white.

[crashdevlin]

To Hell and Back-9: Rising Sun

Hell and Back Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version). This is an AU of my story ‘Marion’ and is just as epic as that series.

Summary: The Winchesters meet Castiel, which prompts Marion to make a call she’s been avoiding since she made it topside.

Pairing(s): Crowley x Marion 

Word Count: 2664

Chapter Warnings: none, really.

Marion leaned forward and handed Dean a towel from the back seat of Bobby's car. He used it to wipe the blood from his face as Bobby drove.

"How you doin', kid?" Bobby asked, eyes flicking from the road to Dean and back.

"Aside from the church bells ringing in my head, peachy," Dean said, pulling out his cell phone. "What are you doing?" he asked into the phone.

Marion and Bobby could hear Sam's voice on the other side, but neither could make out the words. "In my car?" There was a beat before Dean cleared his throat. "Well, uh, Bobby's back. We're gonna grab a beer." Dean put a finger up to silence the protests that he could see rising up in Bobby and Marion's faces. "Done. Catch you later," Dean said, closing the phone.

"Why the hell didn't you tell him?" Bobby grumbled.

"Because he'd just try to stop us,” Dean answered.

"From what?" Marion asked.

"Summoning this thing."

"Are you stupid?" Marion asked as Bobby turned to look at Dean in shock.

"You can't be serious!"

"As a heart attack. It's high noon, baby."

"Well, we don't know what it is. It could be a demon, it could be anything." Bobby reasoned.

"That's why we've got to be ready for anything," Dean said, pulling out Ruby's knife. "We've got the big-time magic knife, you've got an arsenal in the trunk... I'm sure Marion is bringing more to the party than just her pretty face."

"This is a bad idea," Bobby said, seriously.

"Yeah, I couldn't agree more, but what other choice do we have?" Dean asked.

Marion scoffed, loudly. "Anything else! That thing... what it did in that hotel room, what it..."

"You could choose life." Bobby said.

"Bobby, whatever this is, whatever it wants, it's after me. That much we know, right? I've got no place to hide. I can either get caught with my pants down again, or we can make our stand."

"Dean, we could use Sam on this."

"Nah, he's better off where he is. Besides... we haven't had enough Bobby, Dean and Pony adventures lately."

Marion scoffed. "You better not be pulling out the nickname because you think we're about to die. You know we're probably about to die, right?"

"Wouldn't be the first time."

***************************************

Bobby handed Marion a can of black spray paint and a book with several symbols almost as soon as they walked into the empty barn. "All of these, that wall."

She started on the symbols and sighed, loudly. "I really hope this thing, Castiel, really just wants to talk, you know?"

Dean pulled everything out of Bobby's trunk and set it up on the table. "That's a hell of an art project you've got going there."

Bobby finished his last symbol on the floor and walked over to meet Dean at the table. "Traps and talismans from every faith on the globe. How you doin'?"

"Stakes, iron, silver, salt, knife. I mean, we're pretty much set to catch and kill anything I've ever heard of."

"This is still a bad idea."

"Yeah, Bobby, I heard you the first ten times. What do you say we ring the dinner bell?"

Bobby nodded and walked over to the table with the spell components on it. He looked at the twins before reluctantly pulling a pinch of powder from a small bowl and sprinkling it into the larger bowl, causing smoke. He spoke several words of Latin and the bowl gave a small explosive noise. And nothing followed.

It took about fifteen minutes, but eventually, they dropped their guards, pulling out of their fighting stances and hopping up onto the tables. Marion chose to stand by the back of the barn.

"You sure you did the ritual right?" Dean asked, earning an angry look from the older hunter. "Sorry. Touchy, touchy, huh?"

Wind began to beat against the barn and the roof started to rattle. "You just had to say something, didn't you, D.?" Marion grumbled, holding her shotgun up.

"Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind." Dean said, looking around. As if in answer, the lightbulbs in the fixtures over their heads burst.

The door to the barn burst open and a handsome brunette man wearing a beige trench coat over a business suit walked in, purposefully. Marion froze as Dean and Bobby started to shoot. This being was not a demon. This being was a bright blue light barely contained in a human skin. This was nothing she'd ever seen before. She watched Dean pick up Ruby's knife. "Dean... that's not..." She was barely able to get the words out, her breath was so caught.

"Who are you?" Dean asked.

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."

"Yeah. Thanks for that," Dean said, before stabbing the man with the Kurdish knife.

The man looked down at the knife, before grabbing it, pulling it from his chest and dropping it to the floor. Bobby went to brain him with an iron crowbar, but the man grabbed it, turning to face Bobby. He pressed his fingertips to the old man's forehead and Bobby crumpled to the ground. He turned to Dean. "We need to talk, Dean. Alone."

His eyes turned to Marion as Dean dropped to Bobby's side. "You... You're not like..." The man raised his hand and clenched it into a fist. Her throat clenched with the movement, cutting off her words. She focused on bringing in what little air she could, dropping her shotgun and leaning against the wall.

"Your friend is alive," the man said, examining one of Bobby's books.

Dean glared at him. "Who are you?"

"Castiel."

"Yeah, I figured that much. I mean, what are you?"

The man finally looked up. "I'm an angel of the Lord."

Dean looked incredulous as he stood. "Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing."

"This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith." Lightning flashed behind Castiel and a shadowy silhouette of giant black wings appeared behind him. Marion’s eyes widened.

"Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes."

"I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be... overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that."

"You mean, the gas station and the motel? That was you talking?" Dean asked. Castiel nodded. "Buddy, next time, lower the volume."

"That was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong."

Marion’s eyebrows tucked together. *Special people?*

"And what 'visage' are you in now, huh? What, holy tax accountant?"

"This? This is... a vessel," Castiel said, examining the bullet-riddled clothing.

"You're possessing some poor bastard?"

"He's a devout man. He actually prayed for this."

"Look, pal, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you, really?"

Castiel frowned deeply. "I told you."

"Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell?" Dean asked.

"Good things do happen, Dean," Castiel said, taking a step forward.

"Not in my experience."

"What's the matter?" Castiel asked. A look of recognition crossed the angel's face. "You don't think you deserve to be saved."

"Why'd you do it?"

"Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you."

"You have work for me? Tell me, then, why didn't you pull my sister out?"

Castiel glared in Marion's direction. "She whored herself to the demon scum. She signed a contract saying they could take her."

Rage and confusion crossed Dean’s face, shocking Marion. She honestly didn’t think he cared that much. "I signed over my soul, you prick! I signed that they could torture me for eternity and you pulled me out! Why was I saved and she had to climb her way out?"

"She wasn't worth the effort, Dean. She isn't part of the plan." The angel’s words were calm but cold.

"She not- she's my twin! If she's not part of your plan, then I want nothin' to do with it, pal."

"You don't really have much of a choice."  

Marion struggled to speak until her head felt like it was gonna burst, her throat screaming at her. But, eventually her words started flowing again. "Angels, demons, you're all the same," she croaked, to Dean and Castiel's surprise. The angel barely acknowledged his, only lifting a single eyebrow.

"You've got plans and you expect us to just sit down, shut up, take orders. But we're Winchesters and a handprint on his shoulder isn't going to control my brother any more than the burn in my lungs controlled me. So tell us what the plan is, or piss off."

"We'll be in contact," Castiel said, before he disappeared.

"Holy crap. The balls on you. You okay?" Dean asked, rushing to his sister’s side.

"I am fine. Just... get Bobby. I need a drink and a cigarette," Marion said, walking out of the barn and pulling her cigarettes out of her jacket. She coughed into her hand after she lit up her Marlboro Red. She wiped the blood on her black under shirt and took a deep drag, the smoke burning her raw throat.

*******************************

Marion sat in one of the junk cars in Bobby’s salvage yard, contemplating the events of the day before. Angels. That was big. Huge. Huge enough to pull out her phone and click on 'Crowley'. "Probably doesn't even have that phone... better not have to get a bowl," she muttered to herself.

On the fourth ring, the phone clicked. "Marion?"

She gasped and cleared her throat. "I'm gonna set aside my anger at the fact that you haven't contacted me since I've been out of Hell, because I am so ecstatic that you kept this phone active. I was afraid I'd have to kill another cat."

"Lilith found out you were out of Hell, Marion. She immediately came to me. She killed my hounds. All I got left is the runt, Growley, and Juliet. I couldn't call on you or Lilith would've killed me." There was silence for a moment. "Besides, this is the first time you've tried to contact me since you've been back, too."

Marion rolled her eyes. He was right, though. "I wasn't sure I wanted to see you again, Crowley. You lied to me about Azazel.” She shook her head and looked around the outside of the car. “Anyway, I don't have time for this shit with you, right now."

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, automatically, before shaking her head. "You know what? I'm not fine. I was called a whore today, by an angel, because of my connection with you. I need to see you. We need to talk."

"Where are you?" he asked, concern evident in his tone.

"Sitting in an old Subaru, outside Bobby's place."

Crowley was in the passenger seat of the sedan before she could hang up the phone. His eyes dragged down her seated frame. It reminded her of when he'd examine her when she'd get all dressed up to impress a mark. For a second, she forgot her problems and gave in to the emotion, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around the demon's shoulders, enjoying the familiar feel of muscle underneath the fine tailored suit. She pulled back and took a deep breath to gather herself.

Crowley smiled as she pulled away from the hug. "How've you been, Pony?"

"Don't 'Pony' me, Fergus," she said, remembering her anger. "Being your 'Pony' got me sent to Hell. I need to know now, Crowley. I need to know the plan."

He rolled his eyes. "This again? I told you. You know the plan, we both die."

"I am okay with that," she said, seriously. "I got called a whore by an angel today. I know there is a Heaven up there, now, and I am perfectly happy to greet it."

"You ungrateful... I don't know what happens to demons when they die, but it sure as shit won't be pleasant. I got you out of Hell, out of your contract and this is how you repay me?! I have plans, Pony, and dying at Lilith's hand isn't a part of them."

Marion reached up and gripped the fabric on the ceiling of the car. "I figured you might say something like that." She ripped it down, revealing a Devil's Trap. Crowley glared as she pushed out the driver's side door and shut it, leaning in the window. "The angels have plans, too, Crowley. The angels have plans, Lilith has plans, you have plans. I want to know them, Fergus, because everyone seems to be setting my brothers up and no one is being very forthright."

"You bitch!" Crowley shouted, moving across the seat to the edge of the Trap. "I can't believe you would... I spent years on you! I saved you, I marked you and this is what I get?"

"I wish that mattered right now, but I'm a Winchester and the end always justifies the means when it comes to my family. Plans, Crowley. Now." It hurt her to see the betrayal in his eyes, but she had to know.

"Fine. Let me out and I'll tell you all about the plan."

She scoffed. "I'm not stupid."

"I can't tell you Lilith's plan, I won't put us in that kind of danger, but my plan... that's simple. Lilith is going to die, and when she does, I take over. The princes want nothing to do with rule and I'm her second in command. If she dies, and the angels play their part, I become King of Hell."

"And what is the angels' part?" she asked, quietly.

"That's not important. What's important is this." He pointed at her chest. "You're still marked. Still have sulfur in your lungs. My sulfur. Do you remember that I took you to my home? I set you aside so we could keep you safe, out of everything. I tried to give you a bloody home, you idiot, for the first time in your life and you couldn't set aside your Winchester bullshit long enough to get happy! You could have been my queen! I wanted you to be my queen. I had a contract that would have compelled you into it if you refused and I gave that up so that you wouldn't rot in Hell. What have your brothers ever given up for you? Nothing. Your own twin would sell you into servitude if it would save Sammy from a bloody hangnail. Me and Singer are the only family you've got. And you put me in a Devil's Trap."

Marion blinked back tears as she reached through the window to wipe off some of the red chalk she'd made the trap with. "I know you must think my priorities are out of whack, but... they're my blood. You're just... the sulfur in my lungs."

He appeared next to her and pushed her against the side of the car, his hand resting just above her cleavage. "Don't you know your anatomy? What's in your lungs infuses into your blood."

Marion looked at him, her breath catching at the sight of pain and betrayal evident in his hazel orbs. She swallowed nervously at the thought of his sacrifices she'd dismissed over the length of their relationship, and the thought of him wanting her. "I am always going to be the sulfur in your lungs. Always. Been there for you for your whole life," he whispered. He moved his hand from her chest to her cheek, caressing her cheekbone with his thumb. "I can't give you what you want here, Marion. I can't let you get yourself killed for your brothers. You already gave up so much for them. I won't let you give them our future." He tipped her chin up and pressed his lips to hers. When she opened her eyes, that she hadn't even realized she'd closed, Crowley was gone.

KITCHEN SINK TAGS @heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme

SUPERNATURAL TAGS @letsby @mrswhozeewhatsis @adoptdontshoppets @spnskinnyballs @deansenwackles

[sadisticsmiles]

Beyond a Thief’s Power Episode 23

Final Concert

           Kenshi gaped, but his stunned look when he and the others saw the massive gap inside of Le Renard Noir where the basement and parts of the interior were, soon became an excited glee about it. “Whoa, this is just like being in a real horror game!”

           Atsumu quickly turned from his shock at the cedar-haired man with fury showing on his own face. “A horror game?! This is no time to be thinking about what you like playing, Kenshi! My pride and joy of a basement is gone!”

           “Calm down,” Takuto interjected with indifference. “It’s not the end of the Human World. At least we’re back home safe and sound.”

           Riki added while looking staid as ever, “Yeah.” His shoulders slumped. “Ibuki blew it up and sent us to the dimension when she was possessed. Kikuno had ‘awakened’ her to do so while we were waiting around.”

           Hiro looked down sorrowfully. “I wish… we could’ve had more power to save her from all of this.” His waterworks arrived and he sobbed. “She was with us for the last four months… and we failed as a band of noble thieves to steal her away from the dangerous things we didn’t want to involve her in!” He declined his head and shut his eyes.

           Sayuri stared at Hiro’s back and placed her left hand on the left side of it, near the top. “Hiro.”

           Riki looked at the two of them and slowly, yet gently, petted Hiro’s head with his right hand.

           Seeing his fellow members of the Black Foxes put Atsumu at ease and he softly smiled.

           Rina looked across from her left; she was standing next to Takuto who was on her right side and behind Kenshi, who was in front of them. In fact, she was gazing at Mitsuki, who was all the way on the other side on Riki’s left. “What about Mitsuki-san, Manjuki-san, and anyone else who’s wounded or injured? They need the most care right now.”

           Taiga agreed, “Rina’s right. We shouldn’t neglect anyone who’s hurt. Although, a magician’s body is tougher than a human’s, I’m not able to do much.”

           Kuruha exhaled. “Let’s have everyone who’s gotten the brunt of the fights to change out of their clothes and wash the blood off. Then, we can help out with the treatment.”

           “Yeah,” Kokoro said. “Someone should look at Aaron. He must’ve broken parts of his body while beating up Circ with all he had in him. I bet he’s got some open dents protruding outward on his arms, and stomach.”

           “’Scuse me?” Aaron raised his voice mildly with a sardonic tone to it, while looking calm. “A magician’s body is better than a tin heap of cans. I didn’t get any of my blood spilt from using whatever I could muster up to attack while his guard was down. You’re an ingrate even though Futaba and I risked ourselves to save your puny ass.”

           Kuruha looked at her younger sister. “Kokoro, knock it off. Can’t you be more appreciative to Aaron?”

           Kokoro frowned. “…Hmph. Whatever.”

           “An ill-mannered pipsqueak who can’t find an inkling within her to thank me,” Aaron commented. “A lot of people in this world would find it hard to believe she’s older than she looks, as well as her having a boyfriend who’s nine years her senior.”

           Hyosuke put on an eye smile. “It might not make you feel better, but Miyuki and I have an age difference of nearly six years.”

           Aaron closed his eyes. “It’s different than what I’m talking about.”

           Hyosuke opened his eyes. “What?”

           Futaba smiled faintly. “Aaron’s talking about Kokoro’s relationship between two humans, but you’re a human male paired with a female magician. You don’t mind it, however, it does have a different connotation and gap from how the auras are given off with us than with humans.”

           “Precisely the point,” Manjuki flatly agreed. Then, she mumbled under her breath so her voice was not heard by most of the humans. Riki heard her, on the other hand. “You don’t know what it feels to us. It’s never been a light matter.”

           Manjuki and the other magicians who weren’t with the main group and the Mamiya sisters turned around to leave.

           “Hurry up, folks!” Takuji hollered with his back turned.

           Rina smiled wryly. “Really. They all have a vibe unlike ours.”

           Sayuri stared and gave a brief laugh. “Aha! That’s what it means to be deep-rooted, but true to yourself in a way.” She looked genuinely happy and was beginning to revert back to her old self, just a small bit.

           “I guess so,” Hiro slowly brought himself to smile. His tears were flowing less and he regained his posture.

           Kokoro sighed. “How they can be so straight-laced beats me.”

           Kenshi nodded with a peaceful awe to him. “Yet, they all carry a large part of Neon with them.” He closed his eyes. “Manjuki’s my definite favorite out of them. Maybe I love her too much to dispute with her values.”

           Riki’s eyes popped with a mad expression on his whole visage. “What?!”

           Kenshi opened his eyes with a mischievous glance to his leader. “I didn’t mean it that way. You know she’s an older sister figure to me no matter how much she looks on the outside.”

           In a hasty sprint, Kenshi was out in within a few seconds with Riki chasing after him.

           Hiro had a blank look with wide eyes on his face. “Uh-oh, Riki the Siscon is back.”

           Takuto stared down the hall with a short sigh exiting his mouth. “Honestly, this is getting past the Ibuki meter. No offense, but he suddenly moved away from her. What’s gotten into him? He didn’t care much for Manjuki.”

           Hiro titled his head to his left. “Yeah. He’s acting pretty strange.”

           Mitsuki looked down with a sad smile. “…Riki feels responsible for hurting her. Of course, I do too, because we’ve ignored her for so long when we’re supposed to be a family.”

           Nao reassured the dark purple-haired magician with a kind smile. “Mitsuki-san, don’t take things too hard. Manjuki understands how difficult it is to endure everything on your own. She chose to go to you and Riki-san.” There was a light of envy in her eyes. “She chose you over me. I could’ve easily been the one she rushed to without a moment’s hesitation, but her heart never wavered for you. I’m a bit pained, but I know family will always be placed above one’s best friend and many others.”

           Mitsuki lifted her head up. “Nao…”

           “That said,” Nao continued, “shouldn’t you wash your right hand? You’re still covered in blood.”

           Mitsuki nodded. “Un. I’ll catch up with you all.” She vanished immediately.

           “Let’s go check on everyone else,” Atsumu exhaled.

           They soon returned to see what went on in the dining area.

           “You’re late,” Takuji informed the group as they came in. He was sitting down on a chair at one of the tables with his right thigh over his left one. His arms were relaxed at his sides, though.

           “You sure took your time,” Rumi mentioned with a warm smile on his visage.

           Nao gazed at her cousin. “Some things came up.” She glanced at Manjuki next and blinked. “I see your blood’s gone from your shirt, Manjuki. You must be feeling better.”

           “It’s thanks to Asuka,” Manjuki told her best friend. “My wound wasn’t healing fast enough since the Human World is still putting strict limits on our powers.”

           An eye smile appeared on Asuka’s face. “Staying in Neon has been helpful to my recovery. I had a large boost of power at home. Ehehe.”

           There was something about Asuka’s smile that piqued curiosity in the area from the human males, but it was a secret.

           “By the way,” Takuto said to Asuka, “is everything going well with your brother? He’s been sick for a longer time than you have, so how was he able to come to save us from the dimension?”

           Asuka opened her eyes, not once did her smile budge. “Yes. Onii-sama is doing better now. He recovered just in time so that we could finish Roxanne off and bring Swillving with us.”

           Just then, Mitsuki teleported into the dining area. “About Swillving’s blades… were the new ones from Karen and Walter?”

           Asuka nodded. “Onii-sama had their blades infused with hers, so they had to break in order for him to use his powers as well as my own. Because we went outside of Neon, our powers were limited, which Swillving’s new form was our last resort in killing the last of those beings.”

           “I see,” Mitsuki replied. “Swillving wasn’t waiting for me, but she was needed to kill Roxanne.”

           “We’re sorry,” Asuka apologized. “Onii-sama called her to Neon after your father-in-law’s assault on you took place, to make the final preparations for our entrance. To have stolen her from you was wrong. We didn’t give you the chance to see her as she was before the last battle.”

           Mitsuki smiled assuring her world’s princess. “It’s fine. I’m glad she was in your hands. You’ve grown quite strong and beautiful since the last time I saw you, Asuka. Kousuke as well. I’m proud of you both.”

           “Thank you, Mitsuki-san,” Asuka said.

           “How touching,” Minagi added blankly.

           Shortly afterward, Kenshi and Riki ran into the building. Then, the cedar-haired man went behind Manjuki and stopped. Riki halted in front of Manjuki, but his glare did not leave Kenshi for a second.

           “You’re really hiding behind my sister, huh?” Riki asked. “Don’t be a coward, Kenshi, and just let me get my way with you.”

           “No way, Riki,” Kenshi blurted out. “I didn’t mean anything serious about that.”

           Riki’s gaze locked on with a cold look in them. “Oh? Care to say that again? I’m sure you won’t want to mess with my fists. Take responsibility for blubbering in the first place, why don’t you.”

           “C’mon, don’t be like that,” Kenshi pouted.

           Riki’s right eye twitched. “I’ll be however I am, so stop stalling and take my punches like a man. First, Ibuki had feelings for you, and now you’ve run your mouth about Manjuki. Who’s it gonna be?”

           Hiro narrowed his eyes and thought, What about Sayuri?

           Manjuki let out a breath and gazed at Riki. “Onii-san, there’s nothing to be angry about. Kenshi and I are only platonic, in regards to one another. The love you misinterpreted was the third and last one: friendship.”

           Riki listened to Manjuki and sighed. “Okay, I get it.  I’ll drop the whole thing, except there’s one more thing about Kenshi that we should clear up.” He shifted his position and looked at Kenshi, Sayuri, and his fellow Black Fox members.

           Manjuki gave a light nod. “It’s alright; we all know—except for one of us.”

           Riki’s eyes widened slightly, but he balled his hands into open fists with comprehension. He steadily addressed the sniper of the Black Foxes. “Kenshi, how do you feel towards Sayuri now?”

           At hearing her name, Sayuri’s eye widened in surprise. “Eh?”

            The fingers on Hiro’s left hand lightly jerked. “…” Yet, he stayed in his spot to hear the cedar-haired man’s response. He would not allow himself to wane in his friendship with Kenshi.

           A short silence was inside Le Renard Noir. Kenshi turned around and stared into Sayuri’s eyes. There was something he was not certain of, but he had felt a release from within him some time while everyone was in the dimension. He knew something was not right before he and the others met up and then reunited with those who were in Roxanne’s area. The very thing which was gone from his entire body left no conflict and unresolved issues, but he needed to resolve it. Looking at Sayuri, he felt nothing. He searched, but still, there was nothing he could feel.

           Huh? Kenshi’s eyes widened while he entered his mind. I… I can’t feel anything. My feelings for Sayuri are nonexistent than before we met all up in the last space of the dimension. What does this mean?

           “Nothing romantic,” he announced in a quiet tone of voice. “That’s… I don’t know how my feelings aren’t there anymore.”

           Sayuri was still baffled, and Rina’s eyes widened.

           “Uh…” Sayuri trailed off.

           “What’s going on?” Rina asked.

           Takuji stared the two of them, but started with the blonde magician. “Rina, you must’ve forgotten.” His gaze narrowed toward his partner next. “Sayuri, I’m disappointed in you. You’re a Magician of Fate. You can deduce what Homura-sama has concealed from your knowledge after hearing what Kenshi said just now.”

           Sayuri quickly shifted her gaze toward the mint-haired magician with a vexed facial expression. “What?! You’re always so lenient when it comes to Rina, Takuji.” She stared for a few seconds before adding in a calm manner, “Why does everyone else know that Kenshi had feelings for me, but I have to be the last one to find out? Does this really have to go back to Faye’s title as the being of Fate?”

           The human males in the Black Fox Alliance were even more confused by the revelations unfolding.

           “W-Wait,” Atsumu blinked with a dubious look on his visage. “Do Kenshi’s feelings have to do with the curse on the magicians enacted by Faye?”

           Rina sighed, yet her facial expression was not one of exhaustion and anxiousness, but full of a composed look. “Yeah. Sorry to have hidden everything to you guys months ago. We magicians have been under orders not to talk directly about the real aspects of the curses. It’s should be fine now with the three of them rid from the universe.”

           “So the truth of it originated from…” Kenshi cut himself short yet slowly.

           “Yeah,” Rina reiterated. “Your feelings were the result of the powers of it. They were never real.”

           “Rina…” Kenshi did not feel any resentment, so he was more understanding with his friend. “You guys went through a lot.” He smiled at Rina and Sayuri. “Not just the two of you, but all the magicians. Rina, didn’t you say what you did back then for our sakes?”

           Takuto gazed at Kenshi. “For our sakes. As in, the rest of our team—the Black Foxes?”

           The cedar-haired man nodded. “Despite the face Rina was following orders, when she said that the feelings I held for Sayuri were real, she instigated a new round of fun, and brought us to work together and our own bonds ended up being tested.” He glanced at Hiro and grinned. “Right, Hiro?”

           Hiro was a little confused, but soon smiled back. “Yeah! We really did have fun teasing you, even with the arguments that happened in our group.” He was fond of those times. “Welcome back, Kenny.”

           “Thanks,” Kenshi continued to grin. “It’s good to be back.”

           “Hold on,” Rina said. “I didn’t do anything other than what I had to when I faked my words about thinking you were really in love with Sayuri, Kenshi. You’re giving me unnecessary credit for the things I haven’t contributed to.”

           “But the things that are unintended are the ones that are fated,” Kenshi stated. “You’ve done more than you think because you’ve been with us for a long time. Having you around is more than enough. We wouldn’t have experienced so much without you and the others. I’d say we’d be ordinary guys doing whatever we wanted without a care.”

           As if egged on by Kenshi’s words about fate occurring unintentionally, Mitsuki’s Book of Neon glowed brightly. In fact, the violet light shone to the point where it lit up to form a big sphere around the Black Foxes.

           “What’s going on?” Riki asked.

           “Beats me,” Takuto shrugged nonchalantly.

           “Wow…” Hiro trailed off in awe.

           “This is such a beautiful light,” Atsumu said as his eyes were fixated in bewilderment and interest.

           While Mitsuki was speechless, Manjuki glanced over at her sister.

           “Onee-chan, you should be able to come back now,” the younger Saionji sister declared neutrally.

           Mitsuki’s eyes widened and she looked at Manjuki. “Eh?”

           The light dissipated and the guys also turned their attention to the purpureus-haired magician with perplexed expressions on their visages.

           “You were exiled for over nine years to this day,” Manjuki continued. “Your Book should be up-to-date. Therefore, you can return to Neon.”

           “I’ve been forgiven?” Mitsuki questioned. Naturally, she was uncertain afterward. “But… It was my punishment for falling in love and pursuing my feelings for Riki that led to my banishment and the reduction of my powers. Additionally, you became the head of our family in my place, Manjuki. I’m at fault for bringing shame upon us.”

           Minagi glanced at her eldest cousin with a tranquil look mixed with her stoicism. “It’s nothing you should fret over. The whole universe—Neon and the Human World—was saved. We, the magicians of the Hidden Resistance, weren’t the only ones who aided in our objective to ultimately end the entities. Everyone at home is grateful for your part.”

           Rumi smiled with his mouth slightly opened and his closed eyes. “Yes. Truly. We mean it when it comes to the whole universe. After all, if Neon and its magicians perished, so would the Human World.” He opened his eyes. “Without us, you wouldn’t be alive. Not to be quite condescending, but it’s the truth.”

           Futaba laughed. “Hehe, goes it show how much Circ overestimated us magicians! But, thank you. We can live our lives freely.”

           Mitsuki felt herself filled with affection for the magicians. “You guys…”

           Takuto glanced at Riki; he noticed something about the latter’s facial expression. “What’s the matter now? You’re frowning. Might as well make yourself known as the Attitude King, for magic’s sake.”

           The grimace on Riki’s face didn’t budge. “…It’s just… Manjuki has several people who love her—especially men. I was also wondering about that Charles guy.” He instantly remembered the moment the dark green-haired male magician caught his sister-in-law in his arms, and the gaze they had for each other. “You two were off in your own world during a crucial time for everyone.”

           Takuto narrowed his eyes. “Someone’s older brother instinct has taken over and transferred to his non-blood related sister. How overprotective do you feel, ‘cause I’m positive everyone senses an obligation to Manjuki than an innate response from you.”

           Hiro nodded with narrowed eyes. “Uh-huh.” Then, he whispered, “Siscon.”

           Atsumu giggled. “Oh my. Riki, you’ve said it now.”

           “Haha!” Kenshi laughed.

           Hyosuke made a disgusted face. “I want to barf.”

           “Wow,” Kokoro breathed. “An extreme case, huh?”

           Takuji stared at Riki with a blank expression etched on his visage. “Never thought it’d go this far. That’s a human for you.”

           Aaron exhaled with a neutral staid look of his own. “Doesn’t exist with magicians anyhow.”

           “So this is what my cousin-in-law is like,” Minagi noted. A faint smile appeared in a barely noticeable amusement. “Humans really are different.”

           Asuka said with a gentle smile, “After living in this world, I’ve learned something new myself.”

           Miyuki’s mouth opened a teensy bit. “A strange one is the leader of the Black Foxes. I’ve witnessed something oddly… appealing even Nonaga would agree with a little.”

           Nao laughed. “Haha, how nice. Manjuki must be a bit unfortunate yet lucky at the same time.”

           Rumi tilted his head slightly to his right with some interest. “Hmm~. Mitsuki-senpai, Manjuki-senpai, and Minagi-senpai have a human man in the Saionji and Hogo families. The addition to them is no doubt something that causes a ruckus to all the magicians, but can now be accepted gradually. Congratulations, Riki, and senpais.”

           “Oh,” Mitsuki said. “Thank you, Rumi.”

           Aaron changed the subject back to Riki’s bothered curiosity. “Well, Juki? Arent you going to tell your older brother about you and Charles?”

           “I was getting to it,” Manjuki stated with a glance to the teal-haired magician. Then, she looked back at Riki. “Charles is my lover.”

           Riki was surprised. “Manjuki, you’re dating someone?”

           The purpureus-haired magician nodded. “Un. It’s been over eight years.”

           “A long relationship, eh?” Atsumu grinned. “To think our Manjuki isn’t married.”

           Manjuki glanced at the boss of the Black Foxes and replied. “No, I am.”

           Hiro and Hyosuke shouted simultaneously. “Ehhhhhhh?!”

           Taiga interjected, “I know this is late, but what happened to not disturbing the neighbors?”

           Takuji gave a brush to his left with his right hand. “I soundproofed the building over four months ago.”

           “Oh,” Taiga replied.

           Atsumu laughed lightly. “Aha, my bad for bringing it up a while back.”

           Takuto’s eyes narrowed while he was still aloof. “Yeah. You’re a bad fly that should’ve been swatted when you came back with everyone.”

           “Hey…” Atsumu frowned. “That was uncalled for.”

           Rina sighed and placed her left hand on her hip while she turned toward the light blond. “Takuto, you don’t have to be mean to Boss. We just went through a long battle.”

           Takuto clicked his tongue. “Tch. You came in late.”

           “I was back to full health after staying in Neon!” Rina yelled. “I even came from the palace to rejoin everyone for the last part, and you’re still not grateful for being alive. I was a fool for saving your not-so-sorry ass.”

           “You want an apology that bad?” Takuto asked in an indifferent manner.

           “No,” Rina rejected. “And I don’t want your thanks.”

           Rina turned the other way, to her left side.

           Mitsuki, on the other hand, was quite swamped from hearing her sister’s words. “Wh-When did you and Charles… H-How long have you two been married…?”

           Manjuki looked down into her loli of an older sister’s eyes. “Well, we started dating after I graduated high school. Two years after that, I graduated college and we got married. We’ve had six years together as a married couple. Anyway, Minagi, Rumi, Ayura-san, and I are also teachers working with Asuka, who’s the principal, at Sozoteki Geijutsu Academy.”

           “Charles-senpai has a mysterious aura,” Nao added. “It’s one thing that attracted Manjuki to him after your class graduated, Mitsuki-san.”

           “Ayura-senpai was also a bit surprised since she and Charles-senpai are your friends and you three were classmates,” Rumi mentioned.

           “Not so much for Elise and Aikishi,” Minagi informed in a serene manner. “They’re also your friends and classmates from the high school we went to, but it’s rare for magicians to be surprised because of something.”

           Mitsuki’s shouldered fell. “I see.” She forced herself to smile and looked up at her younger sister. “As long as you’re happy, Manjuki. To think you and Charles are together is new to me, but… I’ll get used to it because we’re family.”

           Manjuki blinked. “That’s fine, Onee-chan. You don’t have to be strong all the time in front of anyone. I can tell as much as everyone else how much you’ve felt hurt and sorry. You’re not the head of the Saionji family anymore, but you’ll be able to see everyone. Mom and Dad will be happy to see you’re well.”

           “Manju-chan,” Mitsuki said. Her smile became genuine at that moment. “Thank you.”

           Aaron glanced over at Mitsuki, exuberating his cool atmosphere and his ice-cold good looks, as always. “Can’t be helped when you’ve been banished from Neon for almost a decade, Mitsuki-senpai. You’ll quickly get back to living normally, though.”

           Futaba smiled. “We should also apologize for keeping Kenshi with us. Thus, I’m sorry—along with the other Hidden Resistance members. We’ve caused you to worry.”

           Riki smiled back. “It’s cool. We’re just relieved he’s been in good hands.” He relaxed his shoulders. “But to think you guys went to the same high school as Mitsuki is beyond our minds. Of course, Manjuki attended it, but Nao, the members of Multi-Star Clover, and the former members of Frenzycs, too. It’s a lot to take in.”

           “I’ll say,” Takuto agreed in his monotone voice. He opened his laptop with his right hand. “I can finally check the date and time. It’s 2:49 a.m. on August 29th. Man, we took a while in the dimension after being sucked in at midnight.”

           Sayuri nodded. “The fighting seemed to take a shorter amount of time, but we were in there for over two hours.”

           Hiro heaved a sigh. “It sure wasn’t rad; it was bogus having to keep avoiding Roxanne’s usage of Rina’s powers. Takkun, Boss, and I were so not having any fun going all over the place.”

           “We actually couldn’t get near her, Hiro,” Takuto corrected. “She was pushing us away from her, so we never got a chance to go around, either.”

           Hiro puffed his cheeks out. “You know what I meant. She tried whooping us with everything she had! Doing gymnastics wouldn’t had saved our skins if it came down to having a last resort for us to dodge her.”

           “I’d be a laughing stock from a circus and you’d be twirling and swinging yourself,” Takuto commented. “Beardless would be dead in no time.” He laughed. “Hahaha!”

           A horrified yet angry expression donned Atsumu’s visage. “What?! You’re going too far with your imagination, Takkun! My back’s not broken, for your information!”

           “Well your sense of humor is, or it’s nonexistent,” the hacker smirked. “You’re bad at disputing with people, so give it up already.”

           Atsumu allowed a triste sigh to escape his mouth. “Huh… Why must you always be cruel to me?”

           “You soul begs for me to,” Takuto answered, having reverted back to his usual nonchalant self in a flash.

           Atsumu instantly lost his will to respond. “…”

           Kenshi laughed. “Hahaha! Can’t beat Takuto’s retorts.”

           Taiga asked, “You can’t?”

           “They’re able to shut Boss up at a gnarly rate,” Hiro winked with his right eye.

           Taiga’s eyes widened. “Sounds amazing.”

           Rina narrowed her eyes a bit haggardly. “Taiga, they’re not as great as you think they are. Don’t ask Takuto about anything he says. He wouldn’t be a good influence on you.”

           Still as stoic as ever, Takuto glanced at Rina. “That’s not true. Teasing you most of all brings me an awesome reaction.”

           “…Go dump yourself off somewhere so you aren’t in the same place as me,” Rina flatly said with a look of lifeless eyes.

           “You’re being petty there,” Takuto said.

           Rina turned her back on the programmer. “…I’m done.”

           Sayuri breathed. “Well, anything else we should all talk about?”

           Kuruha proclaimed, “The final concert for Multi-Star Clover is currently undecided since Claire was supposed to finish the plans for it.” Her visage then became full of sadness and she looked down. “I… probably pressured him too much and I didn’t know he and Elizabeth weren’t themselves when I went to make sure everything was done. This was the last thing all of us from Multi-Star Clover and Frenzycs, which Claire, Aikishi, Aaron, and Rumi were part of, wanted to do together before disbanding MSC.”

           Kenshi shared those feelings as well as the dark silver-haired young woman did. “Kuruha…”

           Kokoro placed her left hand on her sister’s right shoulder. “Onee…” The look in her eyes showed no sadness, but the orbits were clear with a resolve, due to having to stand tall and strong for their long-time friends. “It’ll be alright. We can go on without Elizabeth and Claire. They’d want us to.”

           Kuruha looked into those lime-green eyes of the amaranth pink-haired girl and nodded with a small smile forming on her face. “Yeah. We can’t disappoint out fans. They would be confused if we left them hanging.”

           Miyuki’s eyebrows raised a little. “How are you guys going to go on without your friends? Elizabeth Diamond was the main vocalist and Kuruha Mamiya’s the center, despite the fact that Kuruha is more famous out of all the members.”

           Kenshi lowered his head. “I’m not quite knowledgeable on most of the ways the entertainment industry deals with having any deceased talents in their agencies, but there are some groups that do end up disbanding right after. Or, the members split up and become solo acts. Overall, those who work in this type of world move on with their lives.”

           Kuruha had a determined expression on her visage—her eyes were brimming with a will to keep going and her mouth was a faint line. She faced Kenshi and spoke. “I don’t want to quit when we’ve been planning our farewell concert to be back in Yamato1 after leaving South Korea with the last appearance we made. We’ve got to do something not just for those two, but for the fans.”

           Hyosuke smiled broadly with a sensation of admiration and ecstasy erupting within his body, especially in his chest. “This is so cool! You’re giving off an overwhelming aura, Kuruha.” Breath taken, he felt himself grow cold with satisfaction, simultaneously with the hotness whooshing around inside.

           Minagi closed her eyes and opened them. “Then, we’ll settle on a press conference tomorrow to announce Claire and Elizabeth’s deaths, and the concert as both an homage to them, to our fans, and one more thing.”

           Kuruha turned her head towards the light green-haired member of the girl group. “Three things? What’s the last one?”

           “It’s a secret,” Minagi replied. “For now.”

           Kokoro blinked. “Can’t you tell us?”

           “No,” Minagi denied.

           While the Mamiya sisters were perplexed, Aaron smiled at Minagi.

           “I get it,” the teal-haired magician said. “Mina, you’re pretty sly even as an adult. I’m proud to have you as a childhood friend.”

           Minagi gazed at Aaron. “Likewise. You’re quite strong, Aaron. Don’t need to drink your milk?”

           Aaron placed his right hand on his abdomen. “My stomach’s alright.”

           “I see,” Minagi noted. “We’re down to four members in Multi-Star Clover, but there’s one person who has what it takes to go on stage with us.” She narrowed her eyes a very small fraction. “In Elizabeth’s place as well as her own.”

           Aaron nodded approvingly before a smirk planted itself onto his visage. “Of course.”

           Futaba smiled and looked at Manjuki. “This is fine, isn’t it, Manjuki?”

           Manjuki stared into the picton blue-haired magician’s eyes. “I don’t mind.” She shifted and looked at Nao. “What do you say? Will you join us for the final concert, my one and only best friend?”

           Nao’s eyes widened. “Me?” She gazed at her most special friend from high school. “Manjuki…”

           “It’s up to you,” Manjuki stated. Next, she extended her right hand in a moderate motion. “If your answer is yes, my hand is here for you to take. If your answer is no, don’t worry. We’ll manage and have Rumi come in.”

           Rumi winked with his right eye at his cousin, Taiga, Hyosuke, and Miyuki. “I give my consent in a heartbeat. It’s nice being with my former schoolmates, after all.”

           Nao looked at Rumi with a slightly troubled expression. “Rumi. You don’t actually care about performing in the concert after you and your former band members disbanded Frenzycs years ago. What’s with you?”

           Rumi kept his smile on. “I’m giving my love to our fellow magicians. I don’t mind. We’re cousins, so what’s the harm?”

           “This is a female idol group, not a male one,” Nao argued. “I don’t mind joining, but you should refrain from activities since the entertainment industry would have a fit over mixing men and women in the same idol group. The Human World is strict about their rules, even with one concert. It’s different than Neon’s lenient entertainment industry, and we magicians know our world is more laidback with our celebrities.”

           Rumi held out his hands so his palms would face up and motioned them toward his body. “Let the Human World fuss. It went through a so-called ‘calamity’ over four months ago. Things have gradually become different, and we recently saved the universe, so things are going to continue to change.” He set his hands down to his sides. “You’re not a hundred percent fine with the way we do things, oh beloved cousin of mine, but we’re making this concert our last change.”

           “Your last change?” Nao wondered.

           Rumi dodged the question. “Go finish your answer. You’re halfway through.”

           Nao shifted her glance to Manjuki, who was still holding her hand out. “Sorry, Manjuki. I’ve kept you waiting.” While her best friend didn’t respond, she walked toward the head of the Saionji family, reached forward with her right arm, and grabbed hold of her hand. However, Manjuki returned her friend’s grip, to which Nao smiled. “You’re not even speaking to me. Seriously, how stubborn can you be?”

           Manjuki let go of Nao’s hand, letting her own rest back at her side, before sighing. “You took your time.”

           “Sorry, sorry,” Nao said. “You know I didn’t mean to.”

           “At six in the morning in front of Multi-Star Clover’s agency, we’ll meet,” Manjuki brought up. “We should have enough time before the school day starts to set up the press conference between today and tomorrow because we’re magicians.” She glanced at the other magicians in the restaurant/bar. “We should get back soon. It’s still tiring to be in the Human World for us.”

           Asuka smiled. “Yes, we can’t stay here for too long. Today’s another weekday.” She placed her right hand on the side of her face; her smile was a bit conflicted. “The students must be worried.”

           Rina agreed. “You’re so dedicated to your work. I’m sure the kids in the Human World tend to miss you a lot, Asuka.”

           “We still have some third generation magicians students to teach,” Asuka replied. “We shouldn’t overlook the fact they’re also young.”

           “I admire that about you, our princess,” Rina added.

           Sayuri put her right hand over her mouth [to not let anyone see her yawning] with closed eyes. Her shoulders slumped from the exhaustion in her body. Another yawn came shortly after and her eyes closed once more. Her hand slowly—very slowly—fell to her side and she remained in a sleeping position while she stood.

           Rina walked over to her best friend and a warm smile appeared on her visage. “Time to go home, huh.”

           Takuto glanced at his… his what? He and Rina had not once rekindled their past relationship, yet they still held a strong flame for each other, which was actually quite rocky than fiery. The past few months were more of a tolerant way of him being nicer to her, but both of them were on different levels of stubbornness when it came to the other. However, he managed to say, “Be careful.”

           Rina’s smile became fonder for the light blond. “Neon isn’t dangerous, but thanks, Takuto.”

           The next few seconds flew by and Rina and the other magicians, minus Mitsuki, Nao, and Miyuki vanished from Le Renard Noir.

           “Uh…” Miyuki trailed off. “I’ll… go home, too. Nonaga and the others at school won’t be happy if I didn’t attend school, so…” She glanced at Hyosuke. “I’ll meet you again, Hyosuke.”

           Hyosuke smiled tenderly. “Yeah. Have fun, Miyuki.”

           With a last smile on her visage, Miyuki teleported to Neon.

           A short silence filled the area, but was broken by Riki.

           “Hey,” Riki began as he narrowed his eyes. He was calm along with everyone else. “What’ll happen other than the MSC preparations?”

           Kuruha looked at the leader of the Black Foxes. “Well, there’s still some stuff to do in order to move forward. You guys have it rough as well.” She closed her eyes and opened them. “For instance, we’ll give Claire and Elizabeth a small plate somewhere, but it won’t be in a cemetery, since we shouldn’t waste the places for other people to bury the ashes of their loved ones. Claire was once a writer known as Faire, as in the French verb meaning ‘to do or make.’ Elizabeth, Kokoro, and I supported his writings of our memories and adventures together before each death we went through because they’re precious to us. In all of our lives together and his writing, there were times when he felt like a father to us, and Elizabeth a mother, rather than our closest friends.” She stopped herself for a bit. “As for you guys, it may be insensitive of me to suggest this, but this girl—Ibuki—can have something done in a similar manner. However you guys want to remember her by is up to you, but I don’t think a grave is necessary after being in the dimension. Graves tend to have a sadder feel to them from our2 experience.”

           Kokoro mentioned, “Yeah, they did seem to look after us. Sometimes, I wondered if we could’ve had more of a bond as a family, seeing as the four of us kept leaving our parents and our lovers to stay with them throughout our last years in every life.” She smiled brightly and giggled. “Hehe, and then we met Aaron and the others years ago. I really don’t know for certain, but perhaps they healed us and prolonged our lives. Can you guys believe it? We, who were going to die again over three years ago at the same ages we died each life we lived, had our own curse broken by them?”

           Although Taiga, Hyosuke, Hiro, and Riki were a bit confused, Kenshi, Takuto, Atsumu, Mitsuki, and Nao listened without any bafflement.

           Kenshi’s visage had a knowing smile. “The Eternal Reincarnation Cycle broke six years ago, right?”

           The Mamiya sisters only smiled back.

           “Wait.” Atsumu had a grim look on his face. “You’re saying that you’re really the quartet from the twelfth century? The ones who were led by Claire Fioré against the Roman Catholic Church and the founders of the Door to the Eternal Reincarnation Cycle?”

           Kuruha answered. “Of course. We aren’t people who would lie about the truth.”

           Taiga placed his right hand on his chin and his eyes narrowed as if he were deep in thought. “There was a rumor about the human members of Multi-Star Clover and Frenzycs years ago after your groups debuted. About… how similar you four were in appearance to your previous selves. Not only from your original lives, but every one after your first deaths.”

           Hyosuke nodded. “True. There were a lot of photos in both old articles and books—not just history ones. They were even classes in school about you guys, then tabloids, and showings on television. You guys are legendary and living legends once more.”

           Kokoro laughed. “Ahahaha! Legendary. Living legends once more. How amusing today’s generation is!”

           Mitsuki commented. “Hiro may say some strange things the Human World has, but Kokoro has part of the olden Japanese language in her as well.”

           Kokoro’s eyes narrowed fondly. “I am from an old era, after all. Onee is the one who’s always been more modern-sounding, even back then.”

           Kuruha folded her arms. “Though, Kokoro tends to like being called an old lady, I don’t. Maybe I do fit in more with Minagi, Manjuki, and Elise in Multi-Star Clover’s group, but magicians find it to be one of the worst insults when someone calls them old.”

           Nao’s mouth was a thin line, yet she was neutral. “We don’t age once we hit seventeen, and we’re technically immortal, aside from the curses that were placed on us and the restrictions of the Human World. Furthermore, it’s bad for our hearts to be pierced, but we’re made of gemstones, so it would take a magician who’s stronger than us to be able to kill us. This is another reason we magicians don’t have bad relationships. It’s a rare thing for anyone to want to kill another among us.”

           Takuto proclaimed, “Magician facts are pretty useful. I’m lucky to have my laptop updated after we got out of the dimension.”

           “It’s automatic, of course,” Nao replied. “You must have read plenty of the pages by now, Takuto.”

           “With almost nothing but work to do since we took a long break from dealing with the 14K, I’ve been reading as much as I can,” Takuto stated. “Too bad the knowledge I obtained wasn’t useful in dealing with them.”

           Hiro smiled casually. “Come on, Takkun. Everything worked out in the end. On the flipside, Rina used your laptop to save us and Boss! It was so cool how she threw it at Roxanne’s attack and reflected it back to her, especially since Roxanne was using Rina’s powers anyway!”

           Mitsuki and Nao’s eyes widened. “Eh?”

           Atsumu tilted his head to his left. “Is something wrong?”

           Nao blinked. “It’s just…” She paused before continuing. “I assume Rina hasn’t mentioned it to Takuto or anyone else. A magician’s Book of Neon and their cell phone are both connected to their lives. She risked herself to save you three, so Takuto’s laptop would’ve most likely been damaged. Thus, Rina would’ve also been hurt from the attack and her cell phone would’ve cracked. Then again, if she didn’t have her cell phone with her when she went to help you out, then there’s nothing to worry about.”

           Mitsuki sighed while the look on her face became collected. “I’m glad she wasn’t reckless. Rina knows as all magicians do of the consequences of their choices.”

           Riki grinned triumphantly. “She made it before us, which was enough with what we’ve been through.”

           Hiro pouted. “Poor Rina. She rarely gets any appreciation for doing things for us—mainly for Takkun, but seriously. We should throw a party for her sometime.”

           Takuto narrowed his eyes while remaining aloof. “She’s not a victim, you know. She can handle not getting anything out of me.”

           Kenshi smiled with a gleam in his eyes. “Now that I think about it, you two don’t argue so fiercely as you did before I was out of the picture. Did something happen since then?”

           Takuto blushed in a fury. It was a quick memory jog for him, but he recalled their last kiss together months ago and the recent confession he and Rina exchanged before the promise they made. “N-No! Nothing a-at all!”

           “What?” Kenshi urged. “Tell us!” He enjoyed his light teasing. “I’ve missed out, so let’s catch up, Takuto!”

           “No frickin’ way!” Takuto objected. “You snooze, you lose, Kenny. I ain’t got anything worth tellin’.”

           Kenshi’s mouth opened widely. “Aww! I’ve been with the Hidden Resistance and we took down most of the 14K’s forces during your break. Can’t you at least fill me in on the details?”

           “Nuh-uh,” Takuto said. “I’m not saying anything.”

           The banter between the sniper and hacker of the Black Foxes made everyone laugh. With Kenshi back, it wasn’t as lonely as before. The group wouldn’t have to be so serious about what they would do with their conflicts with the 14K resolved.

           Atsumu felt refreshed and brought up something that hadn’t been done since the Four-Thirteen incident. “Why don’t we have our own pre-party right now? We should fill our hungry stomachs after our big ordeal.”

           Taiga stared at the bar/restaurant owner. “That…” He smiled happily. “Sounds fun.”

           Hyosuke’s eyes widened. “Bro…” Then, he felt a sense of peace and affection for his brother. “Yeah, it does sound great.”

           Nao reached out with her right hand and petted Hyosuke’s head. She smiled gently, and they three of them seemed to be closer as a real family than before. There was a warmth spreading from them to which the members of the Black Foxes smiled at the sight. Atsumu went into the kitchen shortly afterward, and the Mamiya sisters also smiled tenderly. It may have appeared strange to have the end of the Black Fox Alliance at an early morning hour with two girls, who had lived many lives, with them. And yet, they all did their best to keep their smiles for those they lost and for themselves. It was not the same happiness from messing around for fun; it was a new ray of bonding before the hours would pass and dawn would arise.

 XXX

             It was 6:05 a.m. on the morning of August 30, 2007. The members of Multi-Star Clover had met up five minutes ago, along with the staff, which had Kokoro and the other magicians, including Rumi and Nao. Gathered in front of the agency they arranged to hold the press conference, the press and bystanders from around the city of Ginza waited in wonder of the news they would hear from the famous idols and former celebrities.

           Aikishi was in a gray and gold plaid-pattern business suit and wore a pair of pewter dress shoes. As one of the co-managers for Multi-Star Clover, he was one of the representatives and stood on the left side of the table (right side for the audience). Then, he began with the words, “We are here today to let you all know about the details for the final concert, as well as to bring some information about the alterations to them.”

           A reporter asked, “Could you tell us why Elizabeth isn’t present today? I can see that Claire isn’t here with you, to add. Also, what is Nao doing here with you?”

           Another reporter inquired, “Are you doing a collaboration for the concert?”

           “Wouldn’t this be the first time for MSC to work with Nao?” a third reported wondered. “Seeing as it’ll be the last time for the group to have a concert, is this why you’re finally doing something together?”

           Kuruha, who was seated in the center of the table, said, “Settle down.” She wore a plain black dress that covered her shoulders with sleeves cut above her elbows. “It’s a difficult time for us, due to the fact we’ve lost Elizabeth and Claire to death’s door.”

           Everyone around the group were stunned.

           “C-Care to explain what happened?” one of the reporters asked.

           “Both of them,” Kuruha said. “They were both suffering from something they couldn’t escape from, but it was too late before we found out. Yet,” she paused. “They were always putting us before themselves, so they never told anyone until the last moments of their lives. It was more than their own stasis, but darkness that closed them off from their five senses.”

           Futaba took over for a few seconds while standing on the other side of the table. She wore a charcoal business jacket over a white button-down dress shirt, a matching skirt that almost reached her knees, and black flats. “To be cut off from the world and the friends they made was a toll for them, and for all of us.”

           “In honor of them as well as for our fans,” Kuruha declared, “we will continue as Claire and Elizabeth would’ve wanted to make this the best concert Multi-Star Clover has ever put on. We also share the same wish they did because we’ve been together for the past six years, and yet, there was nothing we could’ve done to save their bodies. The only thing we’ll be able to do is go through the last performances before we disband and separate for good.”

           “And what about Nao?” a reporter inquired. “Do you have anything to say about your role for the MSC concert?”

           Nao, who was wearing her casual clothes, smiled lightly. “I can’t replace the group’s beloved main vocalist. I hadn’t met her before and I didn’t know her, but of her name and her several reputations as a figure from different times, and as a celebrity.” She let out a brief laugh. “Ehe, the person who could stand on par with my vocals is my cousin, Rumi Akihama, who wouldn’t have minded being a backup if I had refused to sing Elizabeth’s parts. I must say, I’m amused at my own reputation as the top idol and model right now. I do, however, have plans on retiring as well with the concert’s end.”

           At the last part, everyone from the audience of the press conference were more shocked.

           “Wha—” another reporter attempted to speak, but was still at a loss for words.

           “You’re all uncertain if what I said is true,” Nao continued. “I assure you I’m not lying. I would rather walk on the path to the future with my husband, our family, and our friends. Even I believe the entertainment industry needs to stray away from the most famed talents, in which there are magicians. We have things going on as well, you see.”

           With no shift in the citizens’ reactions, Aaron clapped his hands twice. As usual, he wore his black suit with a black tie over a white button-down dress shirt, while he stood on Futaba’s right side. With a smile for the public, he proclaimed, “Well said, Nao. Everyone, we do have our own things to do, other than stick with the agency’s schedules. On the other hand, we’ll hold the concert next Saturday night. The entries will be free of charge and open to anyone who’ll come.”

           The staff gave the people time to let the information sink in with their pause.

           One reporter asked seconds later, “Where will the concert be held?”

           Elise gladly answered. “Inside of Tokyo Dome! It’ll be the concert of the year, so we’ve already arranged for it. However, we’ll make sure to broadcast live for anyone who can’t be there or if seats are filled up. Other than that, we will also make plenty of DVDs. Once again, they will be free of charge, so we’ll give them to you as gifts.”

           “What time will the concert be?”

           “Seven-thirty p.m.,” Manjuki said. “In case anyone has something to do such as work, eating dinner, and so forth, don’t fret. The DVDs will simultaneously be created with our staff’s magic.”

           “By staff,” a female reporter finally asked, “you’re referring to the former members of Frenzycs, I presume?”

           “Yes,” Rumi confirmed. He stood on Aikishi’s left side. “But do not forget Futaba and the rest of the staff will also be there to help us, and we’ll be working to make this an awesome concert for you all!”

           Futaba smiled gently at the sea of people at the press conference. “Please enjoy the concert.”

           Aikishi followed up. “It is our pleasure to bring this to you all in Tokyo.”

           The rest of the group gathered gave everyone surrounding them a smile. Soon, flashes from the cameras and applause from the others [who weren’t holding anything] sounded throughout the area. The press conference came to a close and made its news on television, hence it was a worldwide sensation, but the seats were filled up on the online forms. Although many fans had their hopes for a seat for the concert broken, they were still guaranteed a DVD to watch and remember it, along with the idols they adored the most.

           In addition, the members of the Black Foxes had resumed their daily jobs from before with Hyosuke as a part-time employee/mascot. Rina and Mitsuki cooked in the kitchen with Atsumu since business was booming once more, while Sayuri became the waitress there; she wore the black short-sleeve uniform shirt and pants the employees wore with black shoes. Hiro and Riki continued their jobs as waiters with her, Takuto went back to work sometimes at his company to stay away from the countless customers at Le Renard Noir, and Kenshi returned to his job as a firefighter, sometimes checking on his mother who nearly fainted at seeing him after those past few months, and helping out occasionally at Kikufuji. Taiga was still treating Hisao Watanabe, the ex-businessman alone at home, and Miyuki was still at school, talking to Nonaga. The guys at Fuse Investigations worked throughout the days and were proud to see the news about the Multi-Star Clover press conference and concert, just like the Black Foxes, Kujo brothers, and the ex-business man.

           And so, the next nine days passed by as though they sped through a rapid motion in impatient anticipation for the concert. The night of September 8th was just getting started for the first performance. The cameras were ready with Kokoro and Kenshi in focus, while they and the surrounding fans were inside the nearly pitch-black area. As soon as the vivid lights ran onto the stage and seats on the lowest level, the J-pop music began. Every single one of the fans were pumped up and cheering to the sound. Altogether, the members of Multi-Star Clover and Nao appeared on stage in the back: Kuruha was in the center, Minagi was on her left with Elise on the light green-haired magician’s left, Manjuki was on Kuruha’s right side, and Nao was on the purpureus-haired magician’s right. Their first outfits were frilly dresses; Kuruha wore a slate dress with two straps [which were also frilly] and the dress itself reached until right above her knees, her shoes were gray ankle boots; Elise had a red dress with a single vertical strap on her right side and her dress covered down to the half of her lower legs, with a final touch of red peep-toe wedge heels; Nao wore a daisy white strapless dress that went down to the idle of her thighs and a pair of daffodil ankle strap slim heels; Manjuki wore a pomp and power dress where the straps crossed over and wrapped around her neck, and punch pink mules; Minagi wore a seafoam green dress with a single diagonal strap over her left shoulder, in which the dress length flowed down slightly past the middle of her thighs, and she had on a pair of salt white spool heels.

           Fortunately for the Black Foxes [excluding Kenshi who was working the cameras with Kokoro], the Kujo brothers, Miyuki, and the guys from Fuse Investigations, they were sitting in the front row seats. After all, they made time away from work to come see their special ones who were a part of the concert. As the members of Multi-Star Clover and Nao began their performance, the audience waved glow sticks and waved their merchandise. Of course, Hiro got the most fired up for Nao and had more power to his cheers with a hot pink glow stick in his right hand, and a circular fan with Nao’s smiling cute face on it; this was obviously more support than Hyosuke did for Manjuki, and the other people in the dome. Sayuri glanced to her right and smiled at her lover, while Takuto glanced over two seats over with a stoic expression and a sigh. Rina was in the seat between him and Sayuri and patted her ex-boyfriend’s back with her left hand, and Atsumu smiled from the seat on Takuto’s left side. Riki was over on Hiro’s right side with Mitsuki next to him, and they smiled with affection for Manjuki. Taiga was on Mitsuki’s right side and stared with a look that told the world he saw Nao’s appearance to be the most incredibly beautiful one out of the girl group, and sitting next to him were Hyosuke and then Miyuki. At the very least, the front row seat holders had close-up views of the idols.

           For the songs that followed afterward once the first one ended, the five young women changed into different costumes. These included to shirts—some with vests—and pants or skirts, and other dresses and shoes. Eventually, they performed their last song with the same clothes as their first song. After the song ended, the stage fell silent and they gathered together a few feet away from the edge. The fans and even those sitting in the front row with in a state of bewilderment, while the idols were waiting with smiles on their visages for the murmurs and dubious looks to die down.

           “You all haven’t heard about this from the press conference,” Kuruha began. “However, there was one last thing Minagi had in mind. I don’t know what it is, but I’ll let her say it.”

           Minagi told everyone, “Because this has been a major concert for us, Claire and Elizabeth, as well as for our fans, it is something some of my most trusted magicians know about. Nao doesn’t know yet, but with our finale and our disbandment right after the end of our concert, I want to leave these words engraved in all of your hearts. Without a doubt, things will become tougher without us in the entertainment industry in this world. Even so, there are other talents who need to grow and have those who will support them along the way. My fellow members and Nao shall leave the entertainment world… to a new era!”

           At the end of her words, Minagi and the other idols raised their right arms up. The sea of people in Tokyo Dome instantaneously erupted with cheers for the end of the concert. Kenshi and Kokoro finished the footage before the members of Multi-Star Clover and Nao exited the stage. Aaron, Rumi, and Aikishi ceased the special effects and lighting, and the audience slowly evacuated from the area.

 XXX

 1)      Kuruha is referring to Japan when she says Yamato.

2)      While it is indirectly an experience for both Kuruha and Kokoro, the former is talking about how they didn’t have their mom around since their first lives and so on; that is, until their current lives.